Twelve Steps of Hope
by MollyMittens
Summary: It's been two years since "October 5th" and Arnold is drinking again. Can Helga stand the drama or will she divorce him for good? Read on to find out!
1. Donut Cafe

BOOK ONE

Donut Cafe.

"The usual?" he asks.

"Yea...why not," I sigh. The Donut Cafe guy gives me a sad look as he gets my order-his eyes all droopy with concern. What's his problem?

"Bad morning?"

"Listen Bucko! Do I ask for your fucking life story! Just get my coffee already!" He hands me the cup and I try to pay, my debit card not working. Criminy. Just what I need. Another little fuck up. Why can't I just have one morning where things run smoothly? One stinking morning without some little glitch to make me late? And then, just when it could not possibly get any worse, someone pays for me-his wheeze all too familiar. Great...

"No need to thank me my fair poetess, Just consider it my contribution to the arts," Brian wheezes, tipping his hat. Jeez, little thick don'tcha think?

"Yea...Thanks," I say, walking past him.

"By the looks of that mug of yours you might need a little more help. And I don't the mean hot one in your hand. Though I have always felt your beauty most aptly fit the slang, don't you think?" Right...

"Look, I'm kinda late here so can we just skip the riddles already!"

"Oh, but that's half the fun! Leaving little clues, giving the ol noggin a nudge! I say, Hegla the divorce must really be doing a number on you if a simple riddle is going to set you off." I pause. Turn back.

"You KNOW about that?"

"I think the better question to is ask who DOESN'T know about that. Frankly I'm surprised that little paper of yours hasn't hunted you down for a comment. But I supposed they expect you to write a column about it. You are one of their better writers after all, and that's not just one asthmatic mans opinion. The Missus loves to read you at breakfast. How fitting," he says with a bouncing brow as he ribs me with his elbow, "I always knew I'd get you in my house every morning in one form or another."

"Whatever happened to you wanting me to be happy!"

"Ah! So you DO remember our conversation at Rite Aid." How could I forget? One little trip to get aspirin turned into For Eyes telling me I could have ended up with Herald. Yea right. Like I'd want to be butchers a wife! I mean, I like meat as much as the next woman but who wants to smell like that all day!

"What I remember is you spitting verse after verse at me like I was some stupid little student. Well listen up BUCKO! You have NO influence over me! You don't control me with clever words and delightful diction. All you do is dance around the subject because you know the second you say what you mean I'd...I'd..."

"Divorce Arnold Shortman."

"What?"

"While I admit I love the banter we come up with I was honest. I really did want you to be happy and I will always want that for you, as I do all my friends. I just didn't think you'd take my advice to heart. Not that I don't blame you. You've lived a hard life. It was only a matter of time before you took the reins." Took the reins. Is that what this divorce is? Taking control of my life? Yea, what a way to take control! End the one real relationship I've ever had so I can be alone forever.

And yet...being alone is exactly what Brian wanted for me. He knew that being single would be the only way I could stay clean. With Arnold I'd be stuck in the same circle of sober and drunk. One month I'd be sober when the next I'd be sucking down more bottles than a nursery. And Arnold would copycat me right down to the rehab ward. So I had to break free.

But I wonder...how did Brian know? Has he watched me often enough to know my future? Or was he just plotting this to get me? Criminy...listen to yourself! Like Brian would plot to get me! He's married! Happily! So then what IS his mo-OK I need to stop.

"So you're saying you really DID want me to be happy?"

"For a writer you sure don't listen well. Might want to check up on that." He smiles. I smile back some, feeling slightly better.

"Well...thanks."

"You're welcome old friend." His cell beeps and he starts texting back hurriedly, adding "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a wife in dire need of pickles and Pepper Jack Cheese. What pregnant women taste in that is beyond !" And just like that he's off, moving out of my life as fast as he moved in. How does he do that?

The Sign

"Are you CRAZY man? You can't just-"

"I have to Gerald. It's the only way."

"Like HELL it is Arnold! Do you know what she'll DO to you once she finds out!"

"I know." I sigh sadly, tacking up the sign. "But it can't be worse than divorcing me. So she can come at me with all she's got. Because as far as I'm concerned, that is going to be far better than what I've been through." Gerald puts his hand on my sinking shoulders.

"You are one bold-ass dude, Arnold. One cold bold-ass dude."


	2. Mercy Fuck

Mercy Fuck.

Ok, I think to myself, this will be fine. We'll just sit and work it all out. Nothing bad. Just two about-to-be-former spouses talking about how to raise their kid. It's what we agreed to when I moved out two weeks ago. Keep the suits out of it and do it all ourselves. Easy. Piece of Cake. Slice of Pie. Bite of cookie. Ok...so I'm a LITTLE nervous.

But not as nervous as I was before. I can't figure out why, but something Brian said got to me, showed me who I am. If I can divorce Arnold, then I can do this. I can be an adult and work out what's best for our son. I wonder what game Olga and him are playing? Probably Candyland.

And then I see it. The FOR SALE BY OWNER sign hanging on the Sunset Arms door in plain-open view of the street.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARNOLD!" I shout. I was calm, but now I'm mad-too mad to be sane. Before I have a second to let my eyes digest the sight I bound up the stoop and bang on the door. The slab of wood shakes and I don't care. How could he do it to me! To us? How can he just sell the one place I have called HOME since high school? That stupid Football head! Just because I want a divorce he goes out and...MAN! I keep banging and shouting-my words getting just as harsh as my pounding.

"WHAT! Oh...it's you."

"DAMN RIGHT IT'S ME!" I burst inside past Arnold and the volitel stench, my Formula 1 anger not ready to deal with the millions of bottles littered around the floor.

"How can you DO THIS! How can you sell the one house I have ever loved! That PHIL'S EVER LOVED! Didn't you THINK of him? DIDN'T YOU CARE enough to consider that on top of having his parents split up-his first HOME will be gone too! What were you THINKING Arnold! What could have POSSIBLY happened to-"

"You!"

"WHAT?"  
"You happened Helga! You told me you wanted a divorce. YOU told ME it was over...that YOU would MOVE OUT and live with your sister who-as I recall-is NOT your favorite person in the world. What was I supposed to do? Go on living in the same house I got drunk in? That I hurt you in? You know what pains me in all this is not that you left me, which...OH BOY was that EVER painful. No! What pains me is that you ONLY THINK OF YOURSELF. Do you REALLY believe that I'd want this house after what happened in it? You pushed over Phoebe, you drank every drop of rum in the house, and I followed suit. I nearly broke your wrist, I tried to kill myself, and I lost ALL the people in my life whom I've loved most. And..." he sobs, eyes glossing wet, "I'm sorry you found out this way but I couldn't do it. I wanted to call you the moment I nailed in that sign and I...I'm sorry Helga. I'm SO SORRY." He crumbles, his face breaking up into drenched patches of red- bunched up skin. Well, shit. I'm a real prize. He cries for a few moments longer and when he's finally collected enough I sit next him.

"Criminy Arnold," I sigh, "I didn't think of it like that at all. Here you are sitting with all these memories and I just barge in here like...like..."

"Helga the horrible."

"Yea."

"Honestly Helga...I didn't mean for you to find out this way. I was going to call you and Phil over...talk it through...but after I put up the sign I knew I couldn't do it. So I..." he blows his nose and looks at me with his red ringed eyes. His tired eyes. His eyes that have always said more to me then his mouth ever could.

"I know..." I say softly, "Do you think...maybe...you didn't call because in some way-deep down-you didn't want it to end?"

"Didn't want WHAT to end?" I put my hand on his knee, hoping that my touch could do to him what his look does to me. But before I can take my hand away we're kissing, caressing, and putting hands in places that haven't been felt in ages.

"Arnold don't you think-" And then suddenly we're not thinking, we're doing. Our bodies acting on an instinct older than time. My brain knew we should stop, but my heart wouldn't dare, awash in the heat and passion of sex. And then, just when we couldn't be anymore linked-we came. Together.

"Wow..." I breathe, taking out a cig from my pants that lay on the floor beside us.

"I thought you quit?" Arnold asks.

"I thought you were keeping the boarding house."

"Nope."

"Wait, you're REALLY going to sell it! Then what do you call this?"

"Saying goodbye? Look Helga, I didn't mean to do this. You just touched my knee and I-"

"Ruined EVERYTHING!" And with that I dress fast and puff off, smoke following my freight train of rage.

The Bar

"Wait a minute. You had the chance to get back together with Helga and you said no! Man Arnold, you are some kind of crazy."

"I know! So you've said!"

"First, you don't tell Helga the house is for sale. Then you jump her the second she calls you on it, and THEN- when you have the opportunity to get what you've whined about for weeks-you say no. What is WITH you man."

"I know..."

"Not to mention you're still drinking."

"I KNOW!" I get up from the bar and walk to the jukebox to change the tune. I'm sick of 80s rock. All these bars ever play is stupid, screechy rock. Time for some Jazz.

"So why man? Why turn her down?"

"Because!" I sip my drink, "I finally get it. When she ended it she said she needed time to herself. Time to find out what she's like alone, and if I go back to her and stop the divorce...she'll never get that."

"Arnold, all Helga's going to find out is that she's a mean drunk. Why would you ever WANT that?"

"Because I know she's more than that Gerald. You saw a drunk, I saw a girl who never had the chance to feel real love. I thought I could give her that, but now I know SHE has to give herself that. The only thing I can do is step back and let her." Gerald rolls his eyes and takes my beer.

"Yea...maybe you've had enough." I almost grab the bottle but let him trash it-too sauced to try.

"Can we go?" I slur.

"Where?"  
"Your place?"  
"I don't know. Phoebe's been wanting some-"  
"FINE!" I get up and walk out toward Sunset Arms. If I have any luck, it'll be the last time.

* * *

Ow. Damn sun. Why does it always get you when you need it least! I open my eyes and realize, with utter shame, that I never made it to bed last night. Instead I passed out on the family room floor, right over where Helga and I made love for the last time.

When I attempt to stand I see beer cans and bottles sprinkled all around me, my body messing up the garbage angel it made throughout the night. Did I really drink this much? Did I really let myself down that horribly? Just when I was getting myself on track, when I was FINALLY starting to move on with my life...I do this. Welp, time for Dr. Bliss


	3. A couched Perspective

A couched Perspective.

"Oh how Romantic," Olga gushes on our living room couch, "You're mutual love for your first home as Man and Wife brought you back together once again!"

"Not going to happen!"

"Wait, so you don't want get back together with him?"

"No! Well...not at first but then...I don't know! My mind just got clouded by all the sex and sweat and HEAT that I can't think anymore."

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you going to move back in with him?"

"I don't know!"

"Are you dating him? or will-"

"HAVEN'T YOU BEEN LISTENING! I HAVE NO FUCKING clue what I'm going to do! All I know is that we had sex and now I'm regretting it. We were on our separate paths. Sure, he was drinking, but I could deal with that because I wouldn't have to invest my time in that anymore and now...Criminy! I don't know!" I beartrap my old raggedy doll along with a few pillows, feeling really stupid about how today went.

I was supposed to walk in there and work out something for Phil. I was supposed to walk in there like a mature adult and deal with what I saw and make the best of it. Instead I walked in, made my nearly ex-husband cry before literally fucking the situation all to hell. Criminy...

"I'm sorry Helga," Olga says, her hand on mine. "I know this is not how YOU see it but I have a hard time believing you can experience that kind love making without getting back together. There must have been some magical force at work here! A god pushing you together as you should be. Married for all your years!"

"And I'M Sorry Olga," I say, brushing away my small tears, "I know this is not how YOU see it but that is a load of bullshit! It's really nice that you have so much faith in us. If I had your mindset I'd be sticking it out with Arnold right now. But I just don't see us that way. This is nothing more than a mercy fuck gone awry. I touched his hand, he kissed my lips and our baser instincts took over. That's all! Nothing more!"

"Then why are you crying?" I looked up from my pillow stack and see that my sister was right. Half my face was imprinted in tears on the top pillow. Damn...

"Oh Olga," I sob violently, "I don't want to be here. I don't want to be a divorcee before I'm 30! That's not what I thought I'd be when I grew up. I'd write millions of books and empower the nation-ALL with Arnold by my side! I'd support his dream and he'd support mine...HAPPILY EVER after till we died in matching plots! But now..." I sob again, dabbing my face dry "We can't even have a fraction of that. Because no matter what we do...we'll always end up drinking it all away. And it fucking HURTS Olga. IT. FUCKING. HURTS!" I collapse into hysterics, knowing that I'll never shed enough tears to get through this. And then...when Olga comes in for the hug I-for first time in a long time-don't push my older sister away.

Shrinking Advice

"But what does it mean?" I ask.

"What do you think it means?" Dr. Bliss replies. Typical therapist response. I hate how we do that. Why not just set up a repeating parrot if that's all you're going to do.

"Don't do that! I need clarity here!"

"Listen Arnold," she says, putting down her pad and pen, "I'm not happy that you still drink, obviously. But you know I can't tell you what happened between you and Helga. Only YOU and Helga can figure out what happened between you and Helga."

"That's just it, I have no clue. I thought I could let her go but I can't! Why else would I be here!"

"Because you want someone else to do the hard work for you. And I can't do that."

"Fine, thanks for nothing Bliss!" I shoot up to go when she stops me, saying the one thing I wish she wouldn't.

"Arnold. I know it's been hard for you. Your grandparents died, the other boarders moved out, and Helga left you. Those are not easy things to deal with. But that shouldn't stop you from achieving sobriety. It won't be easy. It won't be fun. But it will be a hell of alot better then waking up hungover."

"Why thank you Doctor Obvious. I had NO IDEA what my problem was but, gosh...you sure nailed it!"

"Ok smart mouth, you want advice? Heres my advice. Stop thinking with your penis and go to an AA meeting. All you ever do is make rash mistakes that you never learn from and it's driving me NUTS. I want to help you, but you gotta pick up the slack here! Nothing will change until you CHANGE it! So go out there, find a meeting, and CHANGE!"


	4. Work It Baby

Work it Baby.

I went to bed that night totally empty from my sob session. I was numb, no feeling left inside me-just a sack of bones and flesh with little heart. In the darkest part of it I almost darted for the door-DYING to complete the feeling with the biggest bottle of rum I could find.

I came to my senses shortly after and just slugged my way into bed, my sons bed not too far from my own. By the next day I vowed to stay straight. So I threw myself into work writing article after article, police blotter after police blotter-anything my boob of an editor would throw at me. Which is why I'm spending my lunch hour in some room inside Hillwood Medical Center. An inside look at twelve steps programs.

People start to file into the encircled chairs, skinny guys, fat guys, a whole range of people take up the seats. I start to wonder if I know anyone. I mean...I DID spend some time in the rehab wing here. Then again...that was nearly two years ago. Not only that I don't think we ever used this room. And why would we? It's too close to the front door. Someone would bolt the second they had the chance. I know I would have. Then. Now...I'm not so sure.

Maybe I would have stuck it out, see where this whole not drinking life got me. Oh...who am I kidding!? I wouldn't have done any of that crap. If I didn't Helga my way through life with mean comments and ill timed jokes all the while downing everything in sight...I would not have ended up here. But I was bound to. Sooner or later I was destined to land here, grumbling through each day like it was my fucking job. So then why am I so nervous? The more people sit the more I want to throw up, the sickness that's been hovering over my week returning with full force. Ok, just wait it out. Whatever it is, just wait it all out. Nothing to worry over. It must be nerves. Yea...nerves.

Everyone's settled and waiting, a few chairs still empty. Thank god! No need to have some sobbing fuck sitting next me. Yea, THAT's what this story needs! Some Fight Club-esk cryfest with men who have bigger tits than Dolly Parton. HA!

A skinny guy in a plaid shirt and thick pants sits up some, opening up a binder in his lap. My stomach churns a little before calming, and I could not be more thankful.

"Alrighty! Welcome to Alcoholics Anonymous! Before we get started here I'd like to remind everyone that while we're happy to have you we ask that you please refrain from taking notes. The only way people can feel free enough to share their thoughts and stories is if they know it won't leave this room. So keep what you hear inside the confines of this room and the confines of your mind" Great! No notes. Now what am I going to do? I can't just pull crap out of my ass! And trying to remember this whole hour would be a total waste. But as I quietly put my notepad away I realized that, article or not, I needed to be here. This has to be good for me.

And then-just when I'm about to reach absolute calm-my soon-to-be ex husband up pops through the crowds-wading his way towards the seat next to me. I get up, doing my best not to disrupt the group when my stomach begs to hurl its contents at everyone around me. I find a back exit and almost pray at the sight. YES! I can leave unnoticed! I can get out, go away, and come back when I can handle the drama. Thank GOD.

"Helga?" Dammit!

"You followed me out here!" I shout.  
"Well, what was I supposed to do! It's been weeks! We need to talk!"

"About what Arnold?! You found a buyer already? Going to sell all your stuff in a yard sale?"

"No! IT's not like that at all!"

"Then when IS IT like? Tell me Mr. I'm-too-depressed-to-be-a-therapist. What is on your mind today!"

"I MISS YOU!"

"A DOI! I could have figured THAT one out. Got any more groundbreaking revelations? Or are you going to just tack them up on the boarding house and never tell me!" I start walking fast down the hall but Arnold follows, spitting out more apologies than the room I just left.

He gains on me some and my whole body nearly convulses at the thought of facing him-my heart still too raw to know what's best. His pleas ring inside my ears like those annoying church bells you can't drown out, the sound knocking each bone at it's core. I have to get away. I have to get out. I have to remove myself from the one thing that's begging me to drink, the one person that's damn near dragging my soul down to hell. And then...just when I couldn't take it anymore I hop in an elevator and push the button for Phoebe's floor, sobs reverberating around the metal box as it rises me up.

* * *

"I'm sorry Dr. Johanson's is in delivery right now. If you like you can wait for her down the hall. I'll let her know you're here."

"Thank you..." I crack, trying my best to smile without showing that I just barfed all over the womens restroom. Not a pretty site for the janitor. But least I'm feeling better, sort of. The nurse smiles back and hands me a tissue and thankfully doesn't ask why I need it. I take it and walk, hoping Arnold's not smart enough to look here.

"Monte Cristo for the poetess?" I turn and see Brian sitting next to me, a huge cigar hanging out the side of his mouth. Great. Just what I need. Another chat with The Riddler.

"Criminy! How do you do ALWAYS find me?" I groan.

"Easy! You're always where I need to be."

"Ya...lucky me." I say flatly. I dab my mouth clean, turning away from him so he won't talk. But we all know he's too smart for that.

"Congratulate me?"

"Why!"

"Because I just became a father, and by the looks of it, you're fated for the same as well."

"What the HELL are you talking about?"

"Hmm...lets see," he says, looking me over, "You have a flushed face, your eyes are puffy, and there is a hint of bile on your breath which means you're either sick, drunk, or pregnant and since you appear sober and it's not flu season my only guess is that you-oh wise writer-columnist to all-have a growing verse in your soliloquy." He smiles, too pleased with his Holmes like analysis.

"What are you-Sherlock or something?"

"Now THAT's the banter I'm after! No, we're just fans. In fact, that's just what Lila and I were watching when our dear sweet daughter decided to show up."

"Daughter?"

"Yep. Guess I'M fated to be surrounded by lovely ladies, present lady included."

"Yea well THIS lady just wants to be left the fuck alone."

"Alright. I can take a hint." He beams, damn near floating off to his wife's room. But before he gets out of view a thought pops into my head.

"WAIT! Do you really think that I'm pregnant or was that some sort of joke?" Brian shrugs.

"I don't know. What do you think Watson?" He bounces his brow then his legs, leaving me utterly confused. Criminy...Phoebe..where the hell ARE you?

I'm worth it, right?

After Helga ran into the elevator I gave up-too tired to chase after her. If she wants to run away from me, FINE. Let her run. Like I need her! She's just my...wife. I really blew it didn't I? I'm supposed to get better for me, yet ALL I can think of is her. In the morning, at night, in bed when I do the obvious. It's like she's taken over my mind, clogging it with memories I can't erase. I see her in bed next to me, I see her holding our son late at night, and I see her stumbling around the boarding house-barely able to keep vertical.

There is an emptiness in her eyes, a huge void that fills the darkness as she walks. Why is THIS all I can see? Why is her drunkenness the one memory I can't shake? I can put the others behind me, but this one sticks out...suffocating me as much as the summer heat. When will I be free of her? When will I be able to go my own path without her haunting me like a ghost. She's not even dead yet and she's got some of sort mythical hold on me.

"Well hello Arnold" I turn, a little shocked at who I find.

"Mr. Simmons? What are you..."

"I'm sorry, I saw you running after Helga and assumed you needed to talk."

"Thanks but no thanks. I'm fine!"'

"Well..." Mr. Simmons says, "If you say so. But I wasn't thinking of talking like nurse to psychologist. I was thinking more like, old teacher to student. But if you're fine then...I'll just leave you to it!" He turns to go and I do the same, glad to get away. But then something tells me this is one person I SHOULD be talking to.

"You know..." I say, "I could go for coffee,"

"So could I." He replies. "There's a new place just a block from here. Let me get out of my scrubs and I'll meet you there." I nod.

"Ok.

* * *

"Wow...selling the boarding house. That's a mighty big decision, Arnold. What did Helga think when you told her?"

"See, that's just it. I didn't. I was too scared. I know she'd be mad and she was when she saw the sign. We were supposed to talk about how to handle Little Phil but instead we just argued over the house. She wants me to keep it for him, and I'm not so sure I can do that. Too much has happened there. I don't think I can bare it." I take a sip of coffee and fiddle with my wedding band, the gold feeling soft from the many times I fondle it at night, asking it to comfort me like my blue hat used to.

"That may be Arnold, but part of growing up and moving on is being able to realize that you have to look beyond the bad. Sure, it was a place where you've made mistakes that led to a divorce. But it was also a place of love that led to a child. His first words, his first steps...all of that happened there because of the work you and Helga put into it. And there is no memory horrible enough to cancel all that out." I sigh. I know he's right, but I just don't feel it yet, and I doubt I ever will.

"But there's a little more too it than that."

"Oh?" I rub the back of my neck, blushing red as I think about revealing the next part.

"See, after the fight we got kinda...intimate. But you GOTTA believe me Mr. Simmons. I didn't plan on that part at ALL! It just sort of...and then everything was so confusing! I could sense that Helga wanted me back but I wasn't sure. So...when she brought up selling the house again I said I'd still go through with selling it. She stormed out in typical Helga fashion and I didn't know WHAT to think. I tried to ask my therapist but all Bliss said was that she didn't know, adding the trite notion that WE had to figure it out. And honestly...I'm not sure if getting back with Helga is the right thing to do. I'm not even sure she WANTS to. The only thing I AM sure if is how much it pains me to be in that house." I sigh again, dropping my head.

"Living there was so much easier when I was nine. I had so much hope then. My grandparents were still alive, the other boarders loved it there, and my parents still had a chance of coming home. Now...I just have empty rooms full of tainted memories."

"Well that's a thought Arnold."

"What?"

"Imagine you see your nine year old self in front of you. Now try to tell him exactly how you feel, what would he say?" I pause, trying to think would what little Arnold would say to all this, his image appearing beside the booth. He looks at me, a frown draping the whole of his face as I think of everything that's happened.

Then it hits me, he wouldn't say something. He'd FEEL something. Disappointment over how I handled things. I should have done what Bliss asked and gone to AA sooner. I should have left Helga alone and let HER come to ME after the meeting. Running after her just made her mad, and even though I don't know why, I have to trust her on this one. If she wants me...she'll come.

"Well...?"

"He says I should wait. But ...I want her back. I want to make this all work, I want to be a family again."

"And what if that's not what Helga wants."

"Then," I breathe, "I have to be big enough to accept that." A rolling tear hits the table top and I don't rub it away,Mr. Simmons fatherly touching my hand with his.

"I'm really sorry this is happening to you Arnold. You know...if you don't want to spend the night alone then you are MORE than welcome to stay with me. It's only a couch, but it's better than nothing."

"Thank you Mr. Simmons, but I need to face this. I'm not nine anymore and the only way I can truly see that is if I go to the one place I don't want to be. Thank you so much for this..." I say, getting up.

"No need to thank me Arnold. I'm only doing what you've done for me. I'm simply returning the favor." We smile, hug lightly and I leave, ready to start my life without Helga.


	5. Wellshit

**Well...Shit.**

"Are you sure?"

"Positive!" Phoebe says as some lab tech keeps jabbing at the inside of my uterus with a penis like probe.

"Ok-but-ARE YOU SURE you're sure?"

"Helga,I've seen this screen a million times and sonograms don't like you are pregnant!" The technician turns the monitor to show me and I see it, this bleakly little gray blob of life bouncing around inside me.

"Criminy!" I moan, "Why the fuck did I fucking fuck him!"

"Beats me," Phoebe says, glancing at the screen. "Ok. I think we've got enough here. Thanks Joan!" Joan slides out the probe and starts breaking down the machine when I fully sit up, glad to have it just be me and Phebs.

"So what am I supposed to do now!" I take out a cig from my bag and try to light it when my best friend snatches it away.

"Stop smoking for one. And go to your regular doctor. I have enough patients to deal with. As for the rest of it, I have no idea."

"Great...just what I need!" I lower my head between my legs and hope it stops me from puking again. One messy bathroom is enough.

"Come on Helga stop being so dramatic. So what if you're pregnant? It won't be any different from before, only now you'll have to figure out how to raise two babies separately instead of one."

"Easy for you to say! You're blissfully married! You'll never get divorced! For as long as you live you'll make millions of hairstack babies and raise them-together! You'll have hard drives full of family photos and videos of vacations, trips to the beach, Christmas dinners... and I'll have two kids who'll have to be shuffled between houses on holidays. Not to mention I have NO FUCKING CLUE where I'll live! And I can't stay with Olga forever because while she is trying to help-her 'hope is a renewable resource' attitude is so FUCKING annoying at 9AM. I'm barely caffeinated and she's prancing around like some Radio City Rockette!"

"And how the FUCK," I rant on, "Does BRAINY know about my pregnancy before I do! What is he? Some sort of sick savant? One conversation with him and he knows more about my body then my body! It's driving me nuts! CRIMINY!" I stand up and get dressed, trying to calm down. Phoebe discovers the rest of my cigs and trashes them before jotting down some notes. Oh what a fun week I'm in for. Barfing and Nicotine withdrawals.

"So what do you want to do?"

"What you mean? You think I should abort it?"

"NO! Oh GOD no! Helga! NO! I meant how do you want to handle it?"  
"If I knew that then I wouldn't be here!"

"Oh, so you're only here because I can help you? Thanks Helga!"

"You know what I mean!"

"Yes, I do. You say I'm your friend yet you only come to me when you need something! When was the last time we actually did something that didn't involve trying to solve one of your crises!"

"Well can you BLAME ME! You're the only sane person I know who has a normal life! I'm sorry I use you all the time but you know DAMN WELL I don't mean to! I'm really trying here!"

"I know that! But could you try a little harder? I mean...you whine to me about Arnold. Arnold whines to Gerald about you-it's like we're a Shortman centered family." She's right. Whenever we have a meltdown we ALWAYS go to them. It's like we can't make a move in our life without checking in. Man! What kind of friends are we?

Then again, I did end my marriage without her. So I can make some moves alone. And maybe...if I honestly try...I can treat her like the good friend that she is instead of an on-call shrink.

"I'm really sorry Phebs. I know it sucks, and we are trying to get better. But I'm just scared. I've wanted Arnold my whole life and it's really hard adjusting to the fact that I won't have him anymore. So if you want me to bother you less, I will. I'll just... go to Olga's and leave you alone." I gather my stuff and go to the door, suddenly sobbing again when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Helga, I DO want you to come to me less, but I DON'T want you to cut me out of your life. I guess because mine is not as hard as yours I often forgot what you've gone through, and I'm sorry. So... how about you bring Phil to my house tonight? We'll get some pizza, play a few games...maybe sneak in a movie..."

"Do you really mean it?" I crackle between cries.

"Yea...I think we both need it." Phoebe says. I smile, sniffling away my tears as I say "You are the...BEST FRIEND I have ever had!"

"I know Helga...I know."

**Soulful Cleaning.**

By the time I got back to Sunset Arms I was insanely nervous-body shaking with sweat. What if I end up drunk again? What if I go inside and all I find are the loads of bottles I've hidden throughout the house? Would I stop myself from drinking them? Could I stop myself from drinking them? And what if I can't? What if all I'm destine to do is sip away my sorrows? But then as I stand there, scared of my past and trembling for my future, something hits me.

My parents came come home knowing they were fated to die. They knew, with almost certainty, that their chances of seeing the son they left behind were slim. But they still came! They still tried! And if they could travel across the oceans with only hope to fuel them, I can open the door and embrace the only open arms I have left.

With shaking hands I turn the key, the door damn near breaking off it's hinges as I enter. An explosion of stink punches me in the face it's all I can do not hurl. What did I DO in here! How far did I fall before-No! I can't stall! ALL I'VE DONE is stall! I have to act! I have to MOVE! I have to CLEAN!

I start by trashing the dead soldiers in the living room and work my way up, getting bottle after bottle, can after can no matter how full or empty they are. When I think I've got them all I check again, starting from inside and going out. I hit all the boarders rooms and mine, going for any that might have been stashed behind heaters and fridges, toasters and couches. Under floorboards and rugs. I can't tell which are mine or Helga's, but I don't care. They ALL have to go!

By 5PM they're all bagged and waiting for pickup and I move on to mopping, attacking each smell with the same valor that my parents used to fight the Sleeping Sickness. I wipe windows, dust and mop floors, and vacuum-cleaning myself as I clean Sunset Arms-lifting every messy memory with every messy stain. Then FINALLY, after several solid hours of work thats left me completely breathless, I stand outside and watch the sun set on Hillwood.

And it was the most beautiful Sunset of my life. House... and sky.


	6. Wake up to AA

**Wake up**

La Vie En Rose is playing on the radio, Arnold's gentle hug swaying me back and forth in the living room of our boarding house. I bury the side of my face into his chest, moaning happily as one of his hands moves from my lower back to the front of my swollen pregnant belly.

"Is this good?" He asks.

"Mmm"'I reply.

"And how about this?" Arnold asks again, softly kissing my lips with his.

"MMMM!" I kiss back, chills running down my body. The night is perfect-too perfect to be real. But I don't question it, just go along with the sweetly slow flow when I hear something.

"Mommy!"

"Arnold did you just call me Mommy?"

"No, but you WILL soon be a-"

"Mommy!"

"Well if you didn't call me-"

"MOMMY!" And that's when I wake up on Phoebe's couch-my son staring me right in the eye. Damn. How long have I been asleep?

"Wake UP Mommy!" Phil giggles. I groan and sit up, hand holding my pounding forehead.

"What time is it?"I croak out.

"Night time!" Criminy...I slept the whole time?

"Where's Phoebe?"

"She's putting Kyo to bed. It's about 8." Gerald says as he collects the plates from the coffee table. "Boy I gotta hand it to you Helga. You sure put on quite a show!"

"What are you talking about Gerald?"

"You made funny noises Mommy. Like when you eat REALLY yummy food."

"What?" I say, kinda confused.

"Oh, it was great! You conked out the second the movie started and the next thing we know you're hugging our pillows going MMM!MMM!" Gerald laughs as he imitates me-arms clamped around him like a lovesick schoolgirl. Great. Not only did I fall asleep during the movie I acted out a lively erotic dream in front of everyone. As if my life could NOT get any worse!

"Wonderful." I get our things, feeling completely exhausted despite the sleeping floorshow I just gave everyone.

"Oh, are you two leaving?" Phoebe says as she walks into the living room.

"Yea...I think it's our bedtime,"I yawn.

"Well I hope you had fun!" Yea...loads of fun. Can't WAIT to do it again. Not. My best friend gives me and Phil a hug and we leave, walking the few short blocks back to Olga's. That's the one thing I love about this city. It never takes too long to get anywhere.

My stomach grumbles some as we walk, and I pray I can hold it all down before I have to explain what's happening. Not like my son hasn't asked. He does know that babies come from a mother's belly. But as to how it got INTO the belly-that would be completely new to him. Not to mention that with Arnold and I no longer living together it would make the birds and bees talk that much more complicated. And his life is ALREADY complicated for a four-year-olds.

"So did you have fun Phil?" I ask as we turn a corner.

"Yea! I LOVE pizza!"

"Me too!"

"Can we go there tomorrow? I wanna play with Kyo again! He's fun!"

"We'll see, but I can't promise anything."

"I like going over there. Uncle Gerald is so funny!" He imitates Gerald's mock of me with acute precision-erupting into giggles after each MMM. He completes a few more rounds, his laughter getting higher in pitch each time. God I hope he calms down enough to sleep. That's the last thing I need. My son hopped up on cheese pizza muttering MMM MMM all night. And with my luck he'll stop just when I need to get up for work.

"MMM! MMM!"

"Ok, Kiddo!" I say as we reach Olga's building, "Enough of that. You have to go to bed soon."

"NO FAIR! I bet DADDY would let me stay up late!" Yea, probably because he'd be too sauced to put you to bed! Ok...not true. He wouldn't be. In fact, the only reason I enforce any sort of bedtime is so Phil won't crawl all over my sisters walls all night. Arnold was definitely the stricter parent in that sense.

"Phil, you know he wouldn't."

"Aw Man! Why can't I have fun parents that let me do what I want?"

"Because you have parents who love you and know that while rules are not fun, they are there for a reason."

"Mommy?"

"Yes Phil?"

"Why can't I see daddy?" I plop down on the stoop and put my son in my lap. Criminy...this conversation is gonna suck so hard.

"You remember when daddy had to go to the timeout place?"

"Yea."

"Well, he's sort of in a time out again. Not in the same place, but still in a time out."

"But why?"

"Because he did something that he shouldn't have done." Ok, not exactly the real answer, but it would break my heart to explain the real reason, one that I have a hard time explaining to myself. So I'll keep this simple. Except... it's not.

With the new baby on the way this whole divorce has not only become the complete opposite of simple, it's also stressful and confusing. Where do I go from here? Where could I go from here? Back to Arnold? Back to Sunset Arms? What if he sells it? What then? Or worse yet, what if Arnold suddenly grows a brain and AGREES with the separation and I suddenly don't?

"But why Mommy?"

"Listen Phil. Your father and I love you, and we will ALWAYS love you. But right now it's best if we keep staying with Aunt Olga until your father is done with his timeout. Ok?"

"But I want to see him NOW!" He starts whining and crying and soon it's all I can do to stop myself from joining him-my heart crumbling at the sight of my son yearning for a father I'm not even sure he should have.

But then I think about Miles and it makes me wonder if all Shortman are doomed to be fatherless, having the runner-up parents raise them while the first prizes go off to fight useless battles. Not that Arnold's sobriety is a useless battle. Oh man, Phil. I am SO sorry this is all happening to you. I will make this all better. No matter what it takes, no matter what I have to do, YOU have your father in your life. Even if it kills me.

**Let it Begin With Me**

By morning I was feeling great! I slept better than I had in months! Not only did I face my demons by cleaning house, I also had a plan. Instead of selling Sunset Arms I would repaint it-fixing up each room until I got a better idea of what it would be. Would it be a motel? Would it have borders again? Or would it be a large home office? So many ideas flew into my head that I had to get them down. And fast! I write and write, using every scrap of paper in the house when it struck me. I needed to go back to AA first.

I could paint and fix all I want, but if I was not careful I would slip up again. For all I know I'm a bad day away from ruining everything again, trashing the one chance I have to make things right. So even though it scares me, even though the simple idea of walking into a room and admitting the one thing I NEVER thought I'd be makes me want to run, I have to.

* * *

"Think"

"Keep it Simple."

"One Day At a time."

"Let go and let god." My tenth AA meeting in ten days. A woman passes me the laminated list of phrases we're supposed to read and I find my spot easily reciting, "Let it begin with me" before passing it on to the familiar man next to me. Where do I know him from? School? No...wait...DO I know him from school? Our school was big, so maybe I just saw him in the halls and never had the chance to talk. But something tells me I have. Who did I know with black hair? Curly? No...Curly is some P.E.T.A. activist. I seem to recall Helga had interviewed him a few times for her column. So it can't be him. Then who is it? Hmmm. When the phrases and twelve steps finished their rounds the mystery man went to the podium in front of us.

"Hello, my name is Charlie Baker, and I am an alcoholic." Wait...Charlie Baker? CHOCOLATE BOY? HE'S the man who's been sitting next me? My head spins at the thought as my brain tries to recall the last time I saw him when we all chime "Hello Charlie!" in that same happy tone we always use.

"My addiction started when I was barely able to walk. You see, my parents didn't allow me to have chocolate. So when my parents weren't looking my Nanny would sneak me some. Malt balls, Hershey bars...you name it. When my Nanny left me, she gave me a bag of chocolate to remember her by. I scarfed the bag immediately. By grade school I was doing anything I could get a bar of chocolate. Dancing for it, doing funny tricks-anything for that sweet-sweet sugar high to remind me of my Nanny. Sadly, this was only the start." He pauses, sighing deeply-his whole body sinking some as he prepares to continue. I can't help but sink with him, knowing all too well what he'll say next.

"A couple of fifth graders bet me a HUGE bag of chocolate that I couldn't stay off the sweets for two weeks. So I conned a good friend into helping me. He thought he was getting me clean, but instead he was getting me a bag full of shame. I won the bet, but lost my self respect. This is not what Nanny wanted for me, not at all. But what could I do? She was not with me. She didn't care for me enough to stay. I asked-in total earnest this time-for help. In the end my friend only helped me trade my addiction of sweets for an addiction to radishes. And when that didn't help me in 8th grade, I turned to booze. By 11th grade I was going to school drunk on Kalua, rum, and beer. I drank whatever I could find, wherever I could find it. When my parents poured all the booze in the house down the drain I opened the U trap and drank from it, never caring of the other garbage I drank with it. I was looking for the high, I was looking for the calm, for the 'Nanny' inside the bottle. My parents soon kicked me out and I was up to my old tricks, only they were not so kid friendly. Blow jobs, rim jobs, whatever got me the most cash. I finally hit rock bottom when...when..." he pauses again, his face contorting a million different ways to keep dry.

"I ran into my Nanny. I had tattered clothes, my breath stank of Kalua, and I hadn't bathed in a week. I couldn't face her. But she faced me. 'Hello Charlie,' she said, I said hello back and hugged her but...in utter shame and regret I snatched her wallet and ran-using the contents to drown out my worthlessness. I woke up the next morning in a dumpster behind a bar. Looking at my Nanny's picture of her drivers license I knew this is NOT what she had in mind. She wanted me to be happy. Not wasted in a dumpster. So...crying and afraid, I checked into rehab. That was five years, seven months, and three days ago." He held out a round red chip, something all new comers get at their first AA meeting. I thumbed mine in my pocket, silently crying for his pain and mine. But mostly I cried because I had a hand in it. I took on his problem thinking I could cure when all I did was magnify it.

"After I completed the program I went to live in a halfway house. I found a job, went to AA meetings as much as I could and after and much hard work I now live in a nice one bedroom apartment. A year later, once I settled into my new sober life I found out that my dear Nanny died. At her grave I laid down her wallet and said, with joyful tears in my eyes,'See now Nanny? Your little Baker Boy is happy now. My life is hard, but I take it one day at a time, getting that much happier each day.' I hope that all of you newcomers in the audience listened. Not just heard me, but LISTENED. You think your pain is unique? You think your pain is worse? Well, everyone's is! And with the twelve steps of Alcoholics Anonymous and your sponsor, You can be sober. I'm living proof!" I wiped my eyes, barely able to dry them. That's where Charlie's been all these years? THAT'S what he's been doing? I thought I had a drinking problem, but he's been to hell and back. And he's happy. Really and truly happy. I raised my hand.

"Yes, you?" Charlie says, "Please, stand up. What's your name?" I stood, fueled by Chocolate Boy's raw courage. If he can say all that, then I can say ALL of what my story.

"Hello...my name is..."

"Oh no...please come up to the podium."

"Um...ok..." I walk, all eyes watching me as I reach the hot spot of the room. "Hi..." I caugh, "my name is Arnold Shortman and I'm an alcoholic."

"Hello Arnold!" they all chimed.

"I...um...this is just my tenth visit here and um...I mostly listened because I was scared of what I might say but now after hearing Charlie speak...I can say it. My drinking started when..." and I let it all out. Each sip, each gulp, what got me sipping and what got gulping and the great love of a girl in pink who pushed this boy in blue to do better.

**A Sorted Reunion **

"Can I come Mommy?" Little Phil asks as I brush my hair into a ponytail. Phil's sitting on the toilet and watching me, a habit he's formed since my morning sickness kicked in. It's kinda gross really. Here I am chucking everything I've ate since birth and he's just waiting to see how messy it is. This can't be normal.

"Fraid not kiddo. Daddy and Mommy need to talk alone. But I promise you, VERY SOON you will see Daddy! Ok?"

"But why can't I see him NOW?"

"Because your father and I are talking about grown up stuff. And besides, wouldn't you like to stay with Auntie Olga? She's going to make pancakes..."

"PANCAKES!"

"And I bet," I add, "That if you ask really nicely she'll put on Spongebob for you!"

"PANCAKES! AND SPONGEBOB! I want some!" he dashes out of the bathroom to the kitchen screaming "PANCAKES! SPONGEBOB! PANCAKES! SPONEGBOB!" Crap. Sorry Olga. I tried. But what can you do? It's Saturday, he's off from pre-school. Just be lucky he didn't have any sugar yet. Dear lord. I flatten out my shirt for the third time and take a breath mint, wondering if I should let my hair down. Nah, too hot for that.

"You ok baby sister? You don't look so well." Olga asks as she pops her head into the bathroom.

"That's pregnancy for ya."

"Nervous?" I groan. Criminy. Why does she ALWAYS ask the obvious? No...I'm not nervous at all. I'm just going to meet my ex-husband for coffee and tell him I'm preggers with his kid. Nothing to worry over. Just another Saturday for the Shortman clan. OH HAHAHA! IS SHE FUCKING KIDDING ME?

"Olga, I couldn't any more nervous if I tried. I mean, the separation was one thing...but THIS? Criminy..." I put up my brush and take one last look in the mirror. Yep, this is as good as it's going to get. A faded pair of Mom jeans and a pink shirt full of jam stains. Great...looks like I'll be doing laundry when I get back.

"Well...Good Luck at least." Right. Like I have any luck left. I think THAT went out the window when Arnold started drinking again.

"I think I'm going to need a little more than just luck."

"How about a hug then?" I roll my eyes. What does she think that will do? Fuck it, why not? Better placate her. I outstretch my arms and Olga embraces me, adding "I'm proud of you Baby Sister!"

"For what? For getting knocked up by my ex-husband?"

"No, for not becoming Daddy."

* * *

I had to admit she had a point. Throughout my walk to the Donut Cafe I realized-with great relief-That I didn't become Bob. I might have been a mean drunk, but at least I didn't make our son feel worthless. Quite the opposite. I showed Phil love the best way I could. I made his breakfast in the morning even though it often made me late, I watched Nick with him even though they haven't had a decent cartoon since 96, and I read to him at night, always taking care to kiss his forehead while I whisper "I love you more than the oceans are deep and the mountains are high." He's my little Philly-Billy, the one male besides Arnold who makes my life complete.

Sigh...maybe I AM lucky. Lucky enough to have a son who can't understand the horrors I'm capable off. And if I DO have any luck left, he never will. Oh who am I kidding. That's not luck, that's hard work. I may not be going to AA but I work hard EVERY FUCKING DAY not to drink and I really hope that Arnold is willing to do the same. "Welp,"I think to myself, "Here's hoping." I open the cafe door-the barista spotting me almost immediately.

"Your usual miss?" he asks. Jeez, what does this guy do all day? Stand around and wait for me to come in? What, am I the only person who ever comes here anymore?

"Actually, I'm kinda meeting someone so...yea."I say as I point to the table by the window.

"Ok! Well you know where I am if you need me." A DOI! You never leave! You probably have a cot stashed in the back room so you never have to go home to your mother's basement. HA! What a boob!

"Hey Helga,"

"Criminy Arnold! Don't DO that!"I say, startled.

"Sorry...so, shall we?" I nod and take my seat, my stomach doing a million and one summersaults a second as my hand twitches for a cig. Man, the one the thing to keep me sane and I can't even have that! Criminy!

"So... how have you been Helga?"

"Pregnant."

"WHAT?!"

"Yea...apparently our goodbye sex conceived a hello baby."

"Why didn't you TELL me?" he charges, standing up from the table.

"Hey Arnoldo," I say, meeting him eye to eye, "I JUST found out! What, you can't let me have one freakin second to digest this? Don't you know how hard this has been for me?"

"For you? What about for me? You took my son away from me like I was a monster!"

"I was only doing what YOU did to me! I have one horrible episode and you locked me up like I was damaged goods!"

"Well what was I supposed to do? Just let you drink away your life while my grandparents raised another son?"

"And so we come back to that old rap sheet. 'my grandparents are raising another grandson. When will it all end' Blah blah blah. Well you know what Football head! I have had ENOUGH of this. You put me away because you knew it needed to happen. I still hate you for it, but NOW I get it! I needed that time away to get better. Just like YOU needed your time away to get better too. And now, WE BOTH needed time away from each other so we can figure out how NOT to royally fuck up our lives. And man, did we EVER fuck up our lives."

"So you don't WANT this baby? Is that it? If I weren't in the picture you'd just-"

"NO! ARNOLD! God, WHY would you even SAY that to me?" I sob, now more sad than angry. "Don't you understand how complicated this all is? I thought I wanted to be alone, I thought I NEEDED to be alone to figure out if I really loved you or... if I was just responding to the fact that you were the FIRST GUY not to treat me like shit!"

"And do you?"

"That's just it, I don't know! I mean, I FEEL as though I love you but I can't tell if it's my body acting out of old habits or if I really and truly love you! And I REALLY wish I knew."

"So come to AA with me. Do the steps with me!"

"What?"

"Helga...if you really want this divorce I'm not going to stop you. But I'm also not going to let you throw us away on a wim. You can't just decide we're done because you want us to be done, you have to FEEL in your heart that we're done, and I KNOW YOU DON'T! Because if you're really were responding to how nice I was and nothing more...then you wouldn't have loved me for so long. Then you wouldn't have done the most caring thing and make me get help."

"OH Arnold...I don't know," I sob, "Have you really been going to AA? I mean...not just showing up but...REALLY going?"

"Almost every day," he says-taking my head into his hands, "I realize now that I have to work it for me, and no one else. And it would be wonderful if you could do the same for yourself...by my side."

"OH ARNOLD!" I swoon, throwing my arms around him madly. He does the same, and we kiss, my hands relaxing more and more each second.

"So...what about the divorce?" I ask.

"That's up to the meetings. If they go well, then it's because we worked them out of love for ourselves and our marriage. But if they don't and we go back to...then...we may have to. But I have hope. As long as we take each step the fullest I will always hope."


	7. Step 1

**BOOK TWO**

**Step 1:We admitted that we were powerless over alcohol-that our lives had become unmanageable.**

"Hello, I'm Dr. Noel. Please, take a seat." We do, staring at a wall of degrees. Phew! Thank god! Not that I was worried, but we didn't really have a doctor last time. We just sort of winged it, going with the first guy they threw at us. Well not this time. We are going to do this right. We have to!

"From the notes Dr. Johansson sent plus today's sonogram I'd say your about two months along which makes your due date..." He types something into his computer, humming happily, "Ah! April 3rd! A Saturday!"

"Great!" I beam.

"Now she DID mention that you smoke, but as long as you haven't smoked since you saw last saw her you should be fine. From what Phoebe said you weren't smoking to excess, so it's all good!

"Really? So what happens now?" Helga asks.

"Good question! We're going to get some blood work to rule out a lot of common problems, but don't worry, we do this for everyone and we rarely get any positive results. In a couple of weeks we'll probably do another sonogram to check the baby's development...but for now I'd say you're doing great!"

I relax some, really happy that everything is fine. But when I look at Helga I can tell she's not fine, her hands shaking some. I take them in mine, squeezing them lightly as she asks,

"Ok, but...what about alcohol levels? I mean I used to...and I'm just wondering if..." Dr. Noel puts up a model-fit hand, smiling pleasantly,

"Listen Helga, a lot of Mothers in recovery are worried about what their past has done to their bodies, but I wouldn't. The body is amazing when it comes to repairing itself so you can relax. You're on the right track. You're taking folic acid every day, you eat well, and you've been in recovery for so long I'd be SHOCKED if you had any alcohol in your system. Alright?"

"Alright," she sighs.

"Ok! Any more questions?" My almost-ex-wife says no, but her face says yes-her head hanging lower than a willow tree branch.

"Alright then! A nurse will be waiting outside to take a blood sample so get with her and we'll see you again in a few weeks." stands and gives us a goodbye shake and we leave, Helga completely silent as she walks to the nurse to get her sample done.

"You ok?" I ask on the bus ride across town.

"Yeah..."

"You don't seem ok."

"I don't know...he said I was fine but I keep getting this feeling that something's wrong."

"Helga what could possibly go wrong! You're doing everything you're supposed to and more!"

"That's just it!" she says, turning in her seat to face me, "I don't know. I just feel like something is!" I take her hands again lean her on me, gently caressing her arms.

"Well...if you don't know what's wrong then shouldn't we just trust Dr. Noel? I mean, you've seen his office wall! He had more degrees than Doogie Howser and House combined!"

"Yeah...I know..I guess I just think that...I've been a drunk for so long that it's somehow going to hurt the baby."

"But Helga, how could it? You heard what he said!"

"Yeah...you're right." Our stop comes up and I pull the cord. Getting off I start to wonder if Helga is right. I mean...what if something IS wrong? What if they do some searching and find out that her drinking...ok, I need to relax. No use having both of us freak out.

"Hey," I say, "I have to meet my AA sponsor for coffee. Are you going to be ok?"

"Yeah...I should go to my meeting anyway. That way...I can get home to Phil early."

"Ok. Call me if you need anything!" She turns from me and starts walking away and I do the same, heart sinking like a stone.

* * *

"Listen Arnold," Charlie Baker says as he sips his java, "I'm really glad that you and Helga are trying to work your marriage out. But you can't base your recovery on hers. She's going to do what she's going to do and you're going to do what YOU'RE going to do. The only thing you can do here is work AA for yourself. That's why you chose to go to different meetings and not live together, right?"

"Right..."

"When I started recovery I used to think that if I got better for my Nanny I'd recover faster. But that only lead me to recover slower, trapped in layers of guilt. She told me to be happy, and I failed to be that over and over again."

"But you didn't marry your Nanny Charlie! You didn't have a son with her! I'm not trying to degrade your love for her I just...when you marry someone you make a promise to the world to stick it out no matter what, to help your partner in life get through anything. And if I can't help Helga get through this...what CAN I do?"

"Help yourself get through this. Arnold, if you get better for you then I know Helga will do the same. Not to copy you, but because she sees how it can work for her. But it takes time. I've been sober over five years and I'm STILL working at it. See, thats the thing people often forget about Alcoholics Anonymous. You don't just push through the twelve steps to graduate, you get through the twelve steps so you can use them everyday to cope with what the world throws at you. Good, or bad." I sigh. He's right. I can't just hop off the wagon at the first sign of trouble.

Not that I wanted to...I just...I want Helga to be OK. I want her to realize how much strength she really has, and boy...does she have a lot of it. I'm sure Brainy can attest to that.

"You know what's funny in all this?" I say, "I used think I knew it all. Now I'm finding out I know jack shit."

"And YOU'RE one of the smart ones," Charlie adds with a chuckle.

"So then what does that make you?" I ask.

"Human." I laugh, sipping the rest of my java with a smile as the heat of it warms my throat, then self.

"Thanks for listening Charlie."

"Thanks for sharing Arnold."

"And thanks for..." I rub the back of my neck, blushing in embarrassment, "For...agreeing to sponsor me in AA. I mean...after what I did to you in the bet I..." Charlie smiles.

"Arnold you didn't make my addiction get worse. I did. I was the one who asked for help and I was the one who abused that help. But now because of the program and the friends I have made there I am sober, AND happy. And as your sponsor who's been where you are...I know you can achieve sobriety and happiness too."

"Thanks," I smile, feeling relieved. So I can do this. It will be hard. But I can do it.

**Meetings**

By the time I got to the door of AA meeting I was crying. Crying for my life, for my son, and for the fact that I could not change my past. But mostly I cried for the fact that I, at the age of 26, might have to raise my children alone. Arnold says he's going to AA and will continue to go but...what if he can't? What if something happens that makes him drink again? Or worse yet, what if I drink again?

If Arnold can fallback to old habits then so can I, even more so. Before I sauced up he barely touched the stuff, only having a few when we had Gerald and Phoebe over, and even then it was just a glass or two. But now...who knows? Criminy! What have I done to myself? To Arnold? Why did I ever belief that booze was the only way out?

Because your mother did. Because throughout your childhood and even at your own FUCKING wedding your mother has slurped those spiked smoothies like they were keeping her alive. Because to her-they were. And you know, like you know your own damn name, that you're fated to do the same. I can try all I want, but deep down...I'm still a Pataki at heart: A mean drunk whose doomed to ruin the lives of the people I love the most. Criminy...

"Your first time?" I turn-expecting to see Brian standing there with a cocky smile, all proud and happy that he has-yet again-found me at my worst. But it's not. OH DEAR GOD is it not.

"M-Miriam?" My mother smiles sweetly at me, and it's all I can do not to crumble in her arms, too depressed to care who can see us through the open doorway. She hugs me as we lean on the hallway walls-her soft hands running up and down my back and it only makes it worse, the whole of my sadness pouring out of me like a spigot.

"What happened to me," I sob, "Why...am I-"

"Shhhh, it's OK Helga.." Miriam coos, "It's ok." I should be asking why she's here and not with Bob. I should be asking HOW she got here, what event that caused her to even ADMIT to herself that she's fucked up. But I can't...too shocked that she's suddenly giving me what I have wanted from her since my conception. And then...just when I'm about to grasp that she's finally comforting me after all these years-she whispers,

"I love you more than the oceans are deep and the mountains are high." The same,exact words,that I say to my little Phil each night before bed. The fuck?

"Oh my sweet Helga-Gene. My little baby girl," she pushes my damp bangs away from my soaked eyes, something in her face telling me she's been here before. Exactly where I am, and exactly where I'm going.

"I don't blame you for thinking I'm a horrible mother. I don't even blame you for using that as a reason TO drink. I just want you to know that... I wasn't always such a failure. Before my depression kicked in and... before I let your father suck me dry I tried. Helga...I really-really tried. I'd read to you, rocked you to sleep, and kissed you goodnight, softly saying what was in my heart."

"So then...why all the 'smoothies' Huh? Why couldn't you defend me in front of Dad!" I shout, "Why did you just lay there...and..."

"Blend it all away?" I sniffle, nodding as my mother hangs her head.

"Because I didn't have the strength to stop Helga. And if I did stop, it would mean I'd have to face years of guilt over how I neglected one of the two girls in my life who made it worth living. But not anymore!" She shoots up her head, looking me right in the iris. "I've been sober for two years and I hoped every time I came here that I'd see you. Just so I could tell you how much you really mean to me, like I know your little Phil means to you! And to say that...I really hope you get better because...I can deal with me being an alcoholic. But I can't deal with the guilt of raising one."

"Oh MOM!" I break down again, crying, this time... because after thousands of bottles, after thousands of therapy sessions, I FINALLY get what I needed from the last person I'd expect to give it.

"Come on Helga," she says as she leads me inside, "I think it's time." Yes. Time to face my future. Time to admit the truth. Time to... stop all the drama.

When it's my turn to speak I don't back down, I don't shy away. Instead I stand up tall and say-shaking, "My name is Helga G. Shortman and... I'm an Alcoholic." Tears blur my vision as I speak but I don't stop myself. I tell it all. The fights, the hurt, the mounds of guilt I feel for pushing my husband down the same path. I can feel myself getting lighter with each truth, getting better with each revelation, getting that much closer to the Helga I want to be with each word I weep. And...just when I think I can't continue, my mother touches my hand and I know...now more than ever...That I can do this.

* * *

"Helga?" Criminy. When will my baby let me reach my bed before zonking me out!? I sit up on the couch and notice I have a piece of paper stuck to my head. Great. Just fucking great. So now ALL my notes will be crinkled up past legibility and I'll have to spend my Tuesday figuring out what the hell "Pancake batter Ice cream" means.

"Hey..."

"Working Late?"

"Nope, just writing the great All American Novel comprised TOTALLY of late night food cravings. It'll be part of the Oprah Book Club in No Time!"

"I was just asking a question Helga. You don't need to get all sarcastic."

"Sorry Olga. I'm just exhausted! This baby loves to suck all my energy just when I need it most. Man...so why are you up? Aren't you usually dancing in your sleep or something?"

"I can't stop thinking about Mom." She takes a seat next me. "I just can't figure out why she never told us she was in AA."

"Because it's hard Olga," I yawn, stretching. "No one likes to admit they need help-ESPECIALLY to their kid. It means you're messed up. And your kid would assume they're the reason you are even though that's the farthest thing from the truth. I mean...Phil was young when I was sent away for help. But if he ever asks about it later-god...I don't know what I'd say. 'Sorry I was too depressed take care of you?' 'Sorry I drank myself to the nut house before you were the age of four?'" I start gathering up my papers into a pile, continuing, "For the rest of his life he'll have to live with the memory that I was away from him. And for the rest of MY life I'll have to live with the memory that my alcoholism was the reason. I lost a month of my sons life that I can't get back! And I guess Mom knew she'd lose time with us. So in a twisted way...her NOT getting help meant that she never wanted to be away from us more than she already was." I yawn again.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Olga says as she gathers some of my loose notes on the floor. I add them to my pile and thank her when I notice Phil standing in our doorway sucking on his blue blanket.

"Can I have a glass of water Mommy? I'm thirsty." I get up and grab Phil his water, watching him drink it ravenously when I notice his face is burning up. His forehead feels molten to the touch and I'm suddenly worried. He's rarely gotten sick before. And even when he did it was usually something the BRAT diet could cure in a matter of hours. Crap...please don't be real sick, just PLEASE PLEASE don't be really sick.


	8. Step 2

**Step 2:Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to**

**sanity.**

"Daddy!"

"My Man!" Little Phil is running to me while Helga hangs back and I can't help but do the same. It's been WEEKS since I've seen him last and if it weren't for his cold I'd hug his lungs empty.

"How ya feeling buddy?" I say, kneeling as we meet.

"I hadda go to the doctor. I HATE doctors. Everythings freezing!"

"Was it a cold like you thought?" Helga walks to meet me, her eyes looking years tired. She hands me Phil's bag and I can't help but think...Man...I am SO SORRY you have to face this alone. If it weren't for my stupidity you wouldn't have to use me as a last option. I'd be the first option, the only option, the option that lays awake at night wondering how long it will take to become a family again.

I know...we have to get through the steps first. I get that. I just hate it that it's taking a sick day for me to see my son. But then, the more I linger on it the more I see how right I was at the start of all this. Before I restarted my quest for sobriety I was not a good parent. I never cleaned house, my blood alcohol content was usually through the roof and I never left our room. Scary times. But I'm working on this like I KNOW you are. So why do you hesitate to bring Phil to me?

"Yeah, the doctor didn't really give him anything. Just said he should sleep this off. Right, like I have time for that..." she scoffs, mumbling something about work under her breath.

"Well not to worry! I got the TV all cued up with movies and I have more chicken noodle soup then I know what to do with! You like that Phil?"

"I wanna watch the Jungle Book! It's fun!"

"You got it!"

"YAY!" Little Phil bolts for the door as Helga shouts,

"Wait for your father Phil!"

"Aw man!" He walks back to me slowly, sulking some, "But I wanna watch the Jungle Book!"

"And you will once Mommy goes to work ok? So be good for Daddy and do whatever he says. Even if it means taking REALLY long naps." He nods that he understands and Helga gives him a light goodbye hug adding, "I'll be back to pick you up as soon as I'm out of work." She smiles, giving my hand a small thank you squeeze when a thought occurs to me.

"Well, why not let'em stay here? I mean, this IS his house. And you did pack another set of PJ's. It could be good for him."

"Oh Arnold...I don't know," she says, adjusting her bag strap, "Things are already confusing for him. I just spent half the morning trying to explain that even though you're NOT in time out anymore we can't come home. I just don't feel comfortable."

"Comfortable? COMFORTABLE! What the HELL does THAT mean?"

"Are you insane? We JUST started recovery again. We can't move back in whenever! We have to be sure we're on the right track first. And even then..." she sighs, looking off into the streets.

"AND EVEN THEN? Helga, you're pregnant with our second child! Are you seriously not going to move in after you have it? I thought you agreed to repair our marriage!"

"No! I agreed to AA and then SEEING if we can get back together. You said it yourself, we only move back in if the meetings work."

"You're right," I sink, "I did say that. It justs sucks you know..." I plop myself on the stoop and hug my son-careful to plug his ears from what I'm about to say.. "I'm so used to seeing my little guy waking up in our room and now... I'm lucky if my old alarm clock gets me up. But if you want to wait then...alright. I'll wait." Helga sits herself next to me, gently rubbing my back as I hang my head.  
"I'm sorry it has to be this way Arnold. But...if you REALLY think it will be better for him then... why not."

"Really!" I take my hands off Phils ears and exclaim the news "How do you like that? A guys only sleepover!" Phil laughs with excitement as Helga says goodbye again adding, "Ok, NOW I REALLY have to go! Be good!"

"First stop-The Jungle Book. Next stop-soup!" I lead him inside to the pre-made couch and get him snuggled in, happier then I have been in weeks. Thank God.

**Work work work.**

I must be insane! What was I thinking! Letting Phil spend the night? I should go back there and care for him myself. Right, like THAT will be good for him. Arnold would be livid with me, and with good reason. I can't just take Phil back after he's already settled in. That would be cruel. But what if we don't work out? What if I decide to continue the divorce anyway? Wouldn't it be just as cruel to let him see his dad more now only to have him see his dad less after the divorce? And on and on I go all the way to work.

"You're late!" My boss says, his age spots damn near sweating off his hugely gapped comb over as he gets some coffee.

"Well what do you want from me Gus? My kid's sick." I reply, getting myself some water to complete my five-star Satline breakfast. God will I be glad to get through my first trimester. I need REAL FOOD!

"Did you at least finish your column?"

"Yeah yeah...you'll get it before I leave."

"Make it four."

"GUS! It's almost lunch! What do you expect me to do? Crap it out of my ass?"

"Well who am I to critique the creative process? Now MOVE!" He walks from the coffee maker and I walk to my desk, thoroughly demotivated. Great! Now I have to quickly write an inspiring column all the while staving off the urge to puke. Criminy! What a crappy day. First Arnold, now this. Man...why can't I ever get a break!

I get out my notes and start sifting through them for ideas when the strong smell of coffee and someones chicken caesar wrap pummels my senses and I have to dart off to the bathroom, damn near barfing in transit.

"Oh Dear GOD," I groan over the bowl, "What a fucking mess." And that's when it hits me. My life IS-quite literally-a FUCKING mess. I was on track. I was on a new path. And then one look from his baby blues gave ME the baby blues. Every puking-constipated second of it. Wonderful. I peel myself off the cruddy bathroom floor and walk out-gunning for the only thing that gives me solace.

* * *

A step meeting. Instead of reading off all the twelve steps we're focusing on step two. Someone is reading from the Alcoholic's Anonymous Twelve Steps and Traditions book, going on and on about Jesus. They keep sprinkling in the phrase "higher power' but we ALL know what that means: God. Some white bearded bastard who can somehow control things.

Yeah, well then why did he make my mother and me drunks? Why did he shatter the dreams of my husband? WHY in the EVER LOVING FUCK did this so-called GOD make me live with a father who never gave a shit and a mother who is JUST NOW giving a shit? If this god really loves us, he's got a funny way of showing us.

"I didn't start to really recover until I realized god could help me. Without Him my life was a complete mess. But as soon as I opened myself up and resigned myself over to him I KNEW I could get better. I knew I could stop drinking," some guy says, all proud and happy like he's won the lotto. What a LOAD of bullshit!

I stopped my drinking LONG before I came here buddy, and I didn't not need any stinking GOD to tell me to stop. The more I think about this the more I want to leave. What kind of place is this? I thought you could believe in anything? Why do you need to have some fictional guy in robes tell you to stop drinking? For that matter, why am I even here?

Because deep down you know no matter how creepy and cultish this feels like, it has to be working. Miriam was a waste before AA. And now...she's mom. And if Mom can stick this out, then so can I.

**Cats in the Cradle**

There is a layer of tissues on the couch but my son doesn't care. He's just snoozing away, his little chest rising and falling softly. I try my best to clean up, turning off the TV, gathering used bowls, and trashing any old Kleenex I can get my hands on. And I'm still happy. Even after spending the whole day mopping up after his nose I still feel loads better than I have in weeks. It must be a father thing. To feel complete with my son home again. Ok, not COMPLETELY at home again. It will be awhile before THAT happens. Still...just the sight of Phil makes me happy. We made him. Through everything we've done, at least we've made you, my man.

"Daddy, I'm hot." Phil complains as he wakes up.

"I can fix that," I smile. "Sit up please!" Phil does and I snag the rest of the tissues while grabbing his extra set of covers. He flops back down and snuggles into his blue blanket.

"Thanks Daddy!"

"You got it buddy!"

"Can we watch The Jungle Book again. I like it!"

"Sorry Phil, once is enough for today. But I think I'll have something you'll like even better!"

"Really?" His eyes light up like fireworks and I almost jump at the excitement.

"Wait here! Don't move a muscle!" I dart upstairs to my room and grab my father's journal, more than giddy that I get to share it with my son again. I've read it to him before, but this is the first time he'll be able to really understand it. YES!

"This," I say when I sit next to my son, "Is your grandfather's journal of his adventures in San Lorenzo. It's a jungle JUST like the one in the Jungle Book!"

"Wow!"

"You may not remember it, but I have read this too you before. So what do you say? Would you like to hear it again?" He shakes his head yes and it's all I can do not to scream with joy.

"Ok Phil, settle in!" He snuggles close to me, one hand sucking his fingers, the other holding onto my arm. "Page one. 'March 15. Today I met the woman I'm going to marry,' That's your grandmother Stella! 'We met when I stumbled into a research party. I was out hiking with my college friend Eduardo, an anthropologist from San Lorenzo.'"

"Daddy..." I pause.

"Yes Phil?"

"Why do I hafta stay with Auntie Olga?" Crap. Just when it was getting fun he brings THAT up. And I have nothing to say. Because even though I was the one to suggest letting AA decide our fate, I'm now regretting it. I can't go back to having my wife and son living with someone else. It's too much! I want them with me. I want to wake up knowing I'll see them at breakfast! Phil will eat oatmeal, Helga and I will enjoy toast and coffee and we'll all smile and laugh...just enjoying the day. But I can't have that, can I? I screwed up and now I have to wait.

"Well...what did your mother say?"

"That you're not ready and something about steps. Are they like the big ones at the library?" I'm not ready? I'M NOT READY! What the hell does she-ok...calm down.

"I'm afraid your mother's right Phil. I hate to say this...but you'll understand it more when you're older."

"That's what Mommy said! But I don't wanna wait till I'm older! I wanna know NOW!" And I REALLY want to tell you. Believe me Phil, there is nothing in the world I want more then to tell you. But I can't. Because even though it would be good for you to know... you'll never understand that I let my pain for my parents drown out my love for you. For the longest moment of my life I turned into a soulless monster, bent on numbing myself to skin and bones. I knew I was alive, and yet I didn't live.

"I know Phil," I sigh sadly, "Grown ups will always tell you to wait. It's not fun to hear, I know. But trust us on this one. We WILL tell you everything when you're older. I promise you that. Just like I also promise you that someday- in the future-you'll stay with me for more than just a night ok?"

"Ok..." he lowers his head and I almost cry when he snaps it back up and asks "So did grandpa really go to a jungle?"

"Yep! And we've got the Journal to prove it!" Phil gets hugs my arm close again as I continue, "'I fell behind the group...'" Ah...

**Mother**

"Are you sure you'll be ok Helga? I can cancel my date tonight! I don't mind!"

"Olga, I'll be fine. I've got my night all planned out. Pizza is on the way, Fight Club is ready to play and I'll be reading in bed later"

"Are you sure?"

"Olga..." I groan.

"Ok. But call me if you need anything,"

"Sure. Say, where did you meet this guy anyway?"

"He's the uncle of one of my kindergarten students. He came to pick him up one day and we realized we both went to Bennington College! Can you imagine? Oh, and I think he's also related to your old PS. 118 teacher."

" ?"

"That's the one!"

"Wow, small world."

"You're telling me!"

"Well, have fun!" I say. Olga beans and bounces out the door, floating in a fog of infatuation. And the Love Spell perfume she showered in. Criminy. Good luck with that one dude.

I roll off the couch and get the movie started as the pizza comes. Perfect timing. That NEVER happens to me. I sit, watch, eat...all the while feeling like something is off. I chew, wondering if it's the pizza. Nope, the pizza is good as always. Maybe it's the movie. No...Brad Pitt is still cute and awesome. Could it be that Arnold has Phil for the night? No. I'm not happy with that but I've made my peace with it. I'm picking him up tomorrow.

So then.. what is it? Feeling slightly panicked and nervous I shut off the movie after my first slice and head to bed, grabbing my AA book. I flip to step two and skim it, feeling my heart thump at the word God. There it is again. God. They said I don't need to believe in one but here it is...all over this damn book. What a crock! They didn't mention this when I was in rehab. Then again, that was different. Plus...Mom was never overly religious and it worked for her. My heart keeps beating rapidly and I KNOW I have to do something. So, with hands shaking, I pick up the phone and dial.

"Mom?"

* * *

"You don't have to believe in god to get better Helga." My mother says-brushing my hair behind my ears as I polish off the last of the pizza. We're sitting on the couch. "You just have to realize that you can't recover alone. You and Arnold can either do it together or separately, but never alone ."

"But I don't know If we should," I say, my chest soothing some, "Getting sober, yeah. But the other stuff? No idea."

"We'll... What does your heart say?"

"That he has cute eyes. But can cute eyes really fuel a healthy marriage?"

"You're asking the wrong person Helga. I'm just now trying to reconnect with your father and so far the only thing we can connect on is eating dinner in front of the wheel."

"So then why are you still with him Mom? If all you're getting is TV dinners and cheap vowels, why not leave?"

"For the same reason you think you can't stay. I'm scared Helga. I don't want to look for love again at my age. It hurt too much the first time around. No..." She sighs, "I'm going to stick it out with B. Besides, we had something good once. Maybe with a little work ...we can have that again."

"Maybe," I yawn, getting sleepy. Miriam stands up and I instinctively take up the whole couch.

"Helga if you're tired you should go to bed. The couch can't be comfortable for you and the baby."

"I'm not tired Mom," I groan between yawns, "Criminy, can't a girl stretch out on the..." And with that I dose off, finally relaxed enough to sleep.

I wake up the next morning covered with a warm blanket and see Mom snoring on the floor next to me. I smile, beyond happy that she's still here.


	9. Step 3

**Step 3: Made a decision to turn our will and our lives over to the care of God as we understood Him.**

"Criminy! Why can't anything fit!" I groan in the front of the mirror. I try to button up my shirt but my stomach keeps busting it off, the sides barely able to reach the middle. Crap.

"Aw, come on Helga, you're growing a baby! You should be happy your clothes don't fit!"

"Yeah, talk to me when you're nearly four months stuffed with Brent Simmons kid and YOU have to buy new clothes on a teachers salary. Oh what fun you'll have."

"Well, if you need new clothes I can-"

"No. Listen, I know you want to help, but you've helped me enough this year." I sigh, really hating what I have to do. Man...when I was pregnant with Phil I was in my sixth month before I needed maternity clothes. With this baby I'm barely in four. Great.

"Did you eat a beach ball Mommy? Your tummy is all rounded!"

"Ha-ha. Very Funny. We talked about this remember? This," I say as I slip on the only pink sweat shirt that will fit me, "Is your new baby brother or sister."

"Can I see it now?"

"Nope, you'll have to wait till April."

"Man...why do I always have to wait! I wanna see the baby NOW!"

"Tell ya what, how about you see your father instead?"

"YAY!" He darts off to our room and starts packing. At least I did THAT right. After he spent his sick days with Arnold it dawned on me that I had to let Phil see Arnold no matter what happened. So now he spends his weekends there, duding it up with the best of them.

"All right," I sigh, " I think this is as good as it's going to get." I turn to my sister. "So what are your plans for today."

"Oh, nothing," she smiles, one leg bending in the air as she presses her hands on her cheeks with glee, "Just going over to Brent's house to listen to his new vinyl collection." I had to laugh. We Pataki girls always get so mushy with love. I wonder if Mom and Dad did in the early years? Yeah..right...when was Bob ever mushy? The last time he ever teared up was over a huge sale. My son runs to me me as I get his fall coat, struggling to get it on him.

"Come on Phil it's cold outside!"

"No!" He darts off again and I chase him, tickling him into submission when I nab him by the couch.

"Got'cha!" I say, "Now here comes the coat monster!" Phil screams in fake fear and he's finally got it on. Phew. Thank god! We get his shoes, my fall coat and we go, out in the chilly October of Hillwood.

**The 5th.**

_October 5th. I don't know what this journal will do, but I don't think my father did either when he started his. I guess he wanted to keep a record of his adventures. And I should do the same. Because...if...for whatever reason I don't make it out of my "jungle" alive my children will know that I love them. They mean the world to me. Even the ones I have yet to meet._

_But there are days, especially today, when I think of my parents and all I want to do is sleep. Just take my covers and let the heat of the fabric hug me up like my parents never could. But I must stay strong. I must work on the third step. I have to realize that I'll ALWAYS need help (divine and otherwise) to get better. And I WILL get better. As god as my witness I WILL continue not drinking. I have to._

I'm just glad Phil's spending the night with me. With him by my side I'm too happy to do anything but smile. Mom and Dad would have loved to meet him...

"Hey Helga," I say as she enters from the rain. Phil runs to hug my legs and I hoist him on my hip adding, "And hello to you too my man. Raining out there?"

"Like god flushed the freaking toilet. It started on our way over."

"I can see that." Helga plunks down Phil's bag and mindlessly walks in. I set my son down and get his bag, noticing for the first time that Helga's showing. How did I not see that before?

"Hey, do you still have any of my old maternity clothes?" She asks.

"You didn't take them with you?" I reply.

"Hey Arnoldo, I didn't think I'd NEED them you know. It's not like I planned this."

"Oh, like I did?" She clamps her eyes shut in annoyance, her hands rubbing the sides of her forehead.

"Do you got'em or not?"

"Yeah, in the closet. Way back." Helga mumbles something and stomps her way upstairs as Phil turns on the TV. How does he do that? He's been here two seconds and he's already got the TV on.

"What are you watching?" I ask.

"Spongebob," he says, getting real close to the set.

"I don't know if you should watch that. Or sit so close...here," I turn the channel to PBS, luckily finding a classic Sesame Street episode for him to watch and move my son a few feet back. The Cookie Monster sings about the letter C and Phil's eating it up, giggling all the way.

"Where?" I go the stairs and call up "What? Helga?"

"I can't find them! Are you sure you put them up there?"

"Well you were the last person who wear them. It's not like I would."

"Oh ha-ha. Just get your freakin butt UP here and help me!" I roll my eyes.  
"Daddy has to go help Mommy so don't go anywhere until I get back, ok?" Phil nods. Well, here I go again. I take deep breaths, unsure of what I'm walking into. We've reached the months where Helga gets even more crazy and irrational than usual.

When she was pregnant with Phil she'd just scream at me and any boarder who happened to make a comment. She always cooled off later, but you had no telling when later would be.

"All right...let me see," I say as I walk into my closet. I get as far back as I can and realize, with great stupidity, that they're not here. I turn slowly to face Helga, praying she'll take this better then I think she will.

"Um...you have to promise me that you won't get mad, ok?"

"What! WHAT DID YOU DO FOOTBALL HEAD!"

"Nothing! Just...they might be in the attic."

"The ATTIC! What the fuck were you thinking!"

"HEY! YOU left ME! Remember? What was I supposed to do? Erect some sort of shrine with your pregnancy clothes?"

"Oh, what a laugh Football head. What a laugh. Your pregnant ex-wife needs clothes and you bring up the one foolish thing she did as a child. Good going. I hope you don't do this to your next wife."

"NEXT WIFE?"

"GOD it was a JOKE Arnold!"

"I'm laughing on the inside." I groan. "Come on, lets go." We walk out and pull down the attic stairs in the hall. I crawl up first and help Helga, taking care not to hurt her or the bulge she's carrying.

"Don't you ever dust in here? Criminy!," she coughs.

"Look Helga, I'm sorry I put them up here but can you lay off me a second. I'm having a hard day as it is!"

"Oh, did YOUR husband misplace your clothes too!" I groan again, turning to her when I find the light.

"GOD DAMMIT HELGA! It's October 5TH! I thought YOU of all people would remember that!" I go to the nearest box and start digging through it, hoping to god whatever I found won't make me cry. That's the last thing I need-me sobbing away while Helga just grunts for me to get over it. Like I can do that. It's been two years they came back to die and she just...

"I'm so sorry Arnold," she sobs, "I completely forgot."

"How could you?!"

"I don't know! I guess ever since Miriam popped back into my life as an honest to god mother I forgot that you never really had one."

"Yeah well..." I stop digging and straddle the box, hands at both sides. "It just sucks that they'll never know Phil like I've always wanted them to. All my life I have prayed for them to come back and they..." I hang my head some, an ache spreading from my heart. "Why does it have to be so hard? You'd think after all these years it'd get easier but instead the pain gets more raw. I want my Mom and Dad Helga. I want them SO MUCH!" In anger I toss the box of the floor, throwing anything I could find into the trash pile I've created. Old lamps, books, pots, pans...my tattered blue hat. It's all I can do not to trash myself, body aching to flop out the window to my death. But then...just when I'm at my deepest depression Helga hugs me, her belly thumping on my back.

"Woah...what's that?"

"The baby...It started kicking when you threw the box." I turn and face Helga, hands on her belly as I look into her wet eyes.

"I'm sorry..."

"Shhhh," she says, "Just feel..." And I do, letting our little miracle sooth me back to life with each kick of it's new legs. "I know you don't have your parents Arnold. But you have us, me and your son. And we will NEVER leave you like they had..."

"Never?" I ask.

"Ever," she replies. I smile and kiss her lightly, gently rocking my wife back and forth.

"Can you stay with me tonight?" I ask when we part lips, "I don't want to be alone today."

"I think that can be arranged." I smile again when Helga lets go. "Man...I am starving. I want pizza. With Barbecued chicken. And maybe some peppers! OH! PICKLES! Yeah...Pickles!"

"You got it! But first...the clothes!" I walk towards the back-ignoring the mess I've made when I see a pink dress sticking out of a bag. "Bingo!" I bring the bag over to Helga and she puts on her classic dress with the hot pink accident.

"Criminy! I look like such a boob!" She moans as she looks at herself through the aging mirror.

"Well I happen to think you're beautiful," I say softly as I hug her from behind. I give her a quick peck on the cheek and lead her down stairs with the bag. And I think...October 5th might not be a bad day after all.

**International House of Panic**

I shouldn't of spent the night. I should have gone home like I was supposed to. But what could I do? Arnold was getting scary. Who knew WHAT would happen! Oh face it Helga, you LOVED it. You LOVED waking up in the same bed you have spent most of your nights in. You LOVED waking up next Arnold, kissing him softly before showering. And you LOVED how he went down on you after showering, totally obliterating any real chance at talk.

Then again...what does Phil think? He must be confused! After dinner it was EXACTLY like it used to be. Arnold and I put him to bed and we had the house to ourselves, talking away the night as he held me. God...I almost fell asleep in his arms. What a night! AND Morning! OH! Ok...no need to gush. You need to get through this day. Brunch with Mom and Olga.

"Well HELLO baby sister! You're looking rather well rested," she says as she flutters her knowing eyes. Criminy. I told you I was staying the night so you'd know where I was, not so you could throw it in my face. Man...

"It's NOT what you think Olga! Arnold was feeling down and as a good friend I spent the night OK? It was nothing! Just a little friend-thing." Yeah right, if that's what Arnold does to friends then Gerald's missing out.

"Tell that to your blushing cheeks!"

"Tell WHAT to her blushing cheeks!" Mother says as she walks into the IHOP. We turn to her, me hoping Olga will shut it, Olga doing anything but.

"Helga spent the night with Arnold!"

"Oh, did you?" Mother says.

"As a friend, OK? Arnold was feeling bad and I-"

"Did what wives do to make their husbands feel better."

"MOTH-ER!" Miriam giggles, Olga joining like it's a damn hen party. Good lord. Can't I do anything anymore? The hostess leads us to the booth and I try to let this pass me, vowing to keep this day as normal as possible. But as soon as we get to the booth mother starts laughing again, begging me to strangle her.

"I always KNEW you would go back to him," she slurs slightly. The baby starts kicking some in worry, and I look at Olga whose now looking at me. We shrug.

"Um, Mother, are you alright?" Olga asks.

"Oh, me? I'm fine. Just dandy like sour candy!" We look at our menus but can't seem to focus.

"Ya know...I was a waiter once. In college before I met B. Thankless job. I mean...what you get paid? There was one man...a real nice guy...he'd come in...order some nice food and did you know what he paid us? Nothing! He was nice about it though. Took us ALL aside and explained that he felt our serving was great, but couldn't afford tips. Can you believe that?" On and on she goes-jaunting down memory lane while Olga and I look on confused. The fuck? What is this? I thought she was sober! I thought she was working the steps like the best of them. HELL-SHE is my SPONSOR! The person I'M supposed to go when I feel the urge to drink. Not the other way around!

"Are you sure you're ok Mom you look a little...what? Ill?"

"Oh, it's nothing girls. I just had a headache and took some Tylenol. That's all!" Tylenol my ass! NO ONE gets hopped up on headache meds...can they?

"I need to use the bathroom. Be right back!" I get up from the booth and dart out of sight, speed dialing Phoebe.

"Oh Hey Helga!" She answers.

"Hey Phoebe I-"

"Are we still on for movies tonight? Because Gerald had this idea that-"

"Can you overdose on headache meds?"

"What kind?"

"Tylenol. Not sure what version."

"Ooo...your mother?"

"She seemed fine when we first came in but then she just started prattling on about how she was a waitress once and then next you know she's slurring like a barfly! But she says she only took Tylenol!"

"How is she otherwise?"

"How do you THINK she is Phoebe!" I shout, a ball of tension forming in my chest. My breath shortens, hands trembling with fear.

"Right...Ok. Did she mention how much she had?"

"No..."

"Well Tylenol is processed through the liver. If she's had the normal dosage her alcohol damaged liver might be processing it slower then normal which MIGHT be why she's sounds off."

"Oh thank god!" I let out, relaxing a little.

"BUT!" Phoebe interjects "IF she's had more than the recommended dosage she could be in SERIOUS trouble. I suggest getting her down to the ER like NOW!"

"NOW! How the HELL do I do that?!" Suddenly I hear a scream from behind me. I turn, shockingly finding Olga standing over a lifeless Miriam, her eyes fearfully wide. In a panic I end my call with Phoebe and dial 911, doing my best to convey the horrors before me, all the while the ball of tension in my chest hardening like a solid rock as I think, "Oh god...please...Not again!"


	10. Step 4

**Step 4:Made a searching and fearless moral inventory of ourselves.**

_October 6th. Helga spent the night. This was not planned, honest to god. I just could not face the night alone. The thought of it just being me and Phil without Helga there after my big blow up in the attic...I really scared myself. For a moment there I didn't know what I was capable of._

_But now there is a bigger issue to deal with. We had sex. Again. Sweet, hot sex that makes me want to lock myself in the bathroom forever with a gallon of lotion. Oh GOD her tits. The way they just flopped all around as I excited her, my tongue lapping up the cinnamon sweetness that is Helga. The way she moaned for me, called me, her breath soaked in utter desire for what I could do to her. And boy, the THINGS I could do to her...after I finished I was panting, completely spent, looking at my darling Helga as I begged to know what this all meant. I almost asked as she got dressed but I paused, knowing that in her fragile state she shouldn't get too worked up. But I'm DYING to know what this means. Are we back together? Or was it just our natural urges taking over? Or was it Helga's way of making me feel better?_

And what about Phil? What does this mean for HIM now? Why does my life have to be so sorted? I should have just gone to that Alcoholics Anonymous retreat with Charlie. Maybe then I wouldn't get into messes like these.

"Up UP and away!" I bellow, raising Phil up with my hands, "Here comes the a AMAZING Phil Shortman to save Daring Diggity Dog from a high tree top! Woosh!" I raise my giggling excited son a little higher until we reach the ledge of the doorway where I set the stuffed dog. PhIl grabs it intently, clamping on to its ears as I help him pretend to fly it down to safety. Once the dog is put with the other "saved" animals I go for the last one-a stuffed pig. I'm about to put the pig in place when I hear the phone.

"Intermission everybody!" I dash to the rotary stand and pick up.

"Hello?"

"Arnold...Can you come down to the Hillwood Medical Center?"

"What? Helga are you alright?"

"No..." she shakes out, her voice getting quieter by the second, "It's Miriam. She...Olga and I...please...come."

"Don't move! I'll be right there!" I dash back into the living room and grab Phil's and my coat.

"Come on Phil. We have to meet Mommy! Put on your coat please!" I hand it to him and put on mine, heart racing with a million and one ideas of what could be wrong. Was it the baby? Was it Olga? Was it Helga's mother? I HATE not knowing. But I'd know soon enough.

We get outside and hail a cab quick, the rain from yesterday still coming down.

"Where to," The cabby asks.

"Hillwood Medical Center! FAST!" The cab speeds forward and I grab onto Phil, hugging him tightly like super glue. We wind around roads, drive near the ditch, and do things I've only seen in movies. But I don't care. I have to get to Helga. I have to get to my wife! We stop, pay, get out and before I can make out anything I find Olga and Helga in a sobbing embrace.

"Oh my god-what happened!" I ask.

"She...she...OH GOD!" Olga collapses into hysterics as my wife-not ex-my WIFE clings to her with a force I've never seen. I sit next to them and try to figure the details when Phoebe emerges from some room nearby, her face sadder than when she met ME here. This can't be good.

"Phoebe what happened?"

"It's not looking good Arnold. Apparently Mirriam overdosed on pain medication and shot her liver to hell. From what her doctors says so far they've found enough Tylenol in her system to numb an elephant. She was responding when she arrived but now we're lucky if she can say her own name. They have her in the Intensive Care Unit."

"OH GOD!" Olga cries.

"So what happens now?" I ask.

"They're trying to pump her system with medication to get her liver enzymes up. But there's no telling if they'll work. So we have to wait."

"Oh man..." I get close to Helga and hug her as best I could, my arms clasping around her and her sister. Phil latches onto her legs as he says "Don't be sad Mommy. I love you." After a few moments of this I notice someones missing.

"Wait...what about Bob? Does he know?"

"The bastards not coming!" My wife sobs, "She gave him over thirty-five FUCKING YEARS and he won't come!" She collapses into sobs again as I flush with rage. HOW DARE HE! HOW CAN HE! WHO THE FUCK DOES HE THINK HE IS!

Before I can stop myself I charge out of the hospital and into the storm around us. I skip the cab, fueled on too much rage to walk slowly. I can deal with me ignoring things, I can EVEN deal with Helga ignoring things. But this asshole has caused WAY too much damage to ignore it.

"Hey! PATAKI!" I yell as I barge in, not even caring that I broke a window to turn the inside doorknob,

"What's your fucking deal huh? Your WIFE is knocking on deaths door and you just sit there like a goddamn pussy! She may DIE! DON'T YOU SEE THAT! Your wife-the only person who gives a DAMN about you is about to die and you just sit there watching the wheel like it's nothing!" He sips something, not even bothering to look up as thunder cracks all around us. The wheel spins before him, the TV screen the only light I see in the room save for the flashes of lightning from outside.

"ALL my life I heard NOTHING but horrible things about you. 'my father never cared for me.' 'My father HATES ME' But I never believed them, always thinking that deep down you MUST feel something. And here you are...doing nothing while the one family your pretty damn lucky to have is breaking. Don't you know that! DON'T YOU SEE THAT! DON'T YOU CARE! YOU CAN'T BE THIS BLIND! YOU JUST CAN'T!" I'm about to go to him when he turns to me, his face wetter than the days rain.

"I can't face her like that Arnold!" He breaks, "NOT HER! Not my Miriam!" And it was then, in the darkness of the storm, that I saw the biggest man in Hillwood shrink down to nothing.

**Schrodinger's Waiting Room**

I feel completely numb. Olga and I have stopped crying, but the pain is still there, knotted up in our eyes, our chest, and our hands as they shake with fear that this will be the last time we'll see our mother. Phil is sitting next to me, happily laughing every time the baby kicks-which it's been for the last half hour.

"Phil, Mommy would really like if you took your hand of her belly please." At first he doesn't but after a stern look he snatches it away, about to cry himself.

"I'm sorry Phil. Your grandmother's just got me upset is all."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because why?" I groan. I do NOT have the time to explain it to him. How could I? If my mother can overdose on something sold at truck stops and gas stations then what fate do I have? Will I end up here too? Will I get better only to die shortly after?

"Hey," I sit up when I see Phoebe and I almost hug her in hopes she's got good news. But her eyes say there's none.

"So...I talked to her doctor again and according to him, she could go either way. I really wish I could tell you more, but that's...that's all I have for now."

"Oh god! I weep, trying to control myself.

"You know...if you want...Gerald and I could take Phil tonight. I'm sure you all have a lot to talk about when Arnold gets back."

"You'd really do that for me? After what I..."

"Don't mention it. I know you'd do the same for me."

"You bet your ass I would!" I tear. I turn to my son, "How do you like that Phil? A night with Kyo!" He nods yes and walks to Phoebe.

"Call me the minute anything happens ok?" Pheebs says, and she takes my son, leaving me and Olga to sit alone. For a while we don't say much-me trying not to cry and Olga's face stained in black mascara.

"I just don't get it," she cries.

"YOU don't get it? YOU! I was sitting with her in meetings Olga! I was going to lunch with her afterwards. I had to listen to Mom tell whole freaking groups how well AA was going. How every fucking step was making her a better person. Well if this is what a better person is I sure as HELL don't want to see the alternative." I stand up, rubbing my belly some to calm it,

"And what sucks about all this is that you didn't even know! All you ever did was exactly as they wanted. You always got A's, you took zillions of classes in a semester and you EVEN switched schools to make Dad happy and for what? So you could totally miss the fact that Mom was a drunk."

"Well you know what sucks about YOU?" Olga says as she stands to face me, "You act as though you're going through this alone. You act like you're the only woman around here with any real pain. Well guess what! Mothers smoothies hurt me too! I might not have known she was in AA but doesn't mean I didn't know what that blender made everyday. Why do you think I TRIED to get all those A's? Why would I switch colleges only after my first semester? Because I thought that's why Mom drank. My whole childhood I had to live with the fact that MOM drank because I was not good enough. And I thought that if I could just get that A, maybe she would stop. Maybe she would love us enough to get help. And you know what else baby sister? You are so selfish that you don't even realize you're the reason I stopped talking to them. When I saw how Mommy and Daddy caused you to drink as well I knew I had to stop playing their emotional games."

"Well did you ever think of telling ME that? Did you ever stop and think that if I just KNEW you how much you cared I'd not be this bad!"

"I tried Helga! I TRIED! But you were too stubborn to take it. You called me names, you yelled at me, and the only time you ever took my help was when your husband got sick. Do you KNOW what that's like? To live your whole life knowing that you'll ONLY hear from your sister when she's got no one else left! Was I really that horrible to you that you HAD to leave me for last!"

"Well I don't do that NOW do I?"

"Helga...I'm afraid that you do. I wanted to keep in touch with you but you kept pushing me away until you moved in again. I'm happy to have you and Phil with me but...would it KILL you to act like my sister once in awhile!"

"Would it KILL YOU to let me have a MOMENT to myself when I wake up?"

"HEY! Will you girls pipe down! If I have to wait in this oversized death box the last you could do is SHUT UP!" We turn, surprised to find my husband and our father walking to meet us. They're both soaked to the bone.

"OH DADDY!" So much for not talking to them. She runs to Bob as I stand back-not ready to deal with him. What does he expect by coming here? What can possibly happen now that he's here? I wanted him to come at first, but now...seeing this poor bastard in front of me I KNOW I can't face him. After what he's done to us? TO HER? What the FUCK gives HIM the right to boss her around like some servant! She's a PERSON dammit! She's REAL. She's my MOTHER! And you just treat her like one of Olga's trophies-trotting her out so the world can see how great Big Bob the Beeper King can be.

"IT SHOULD BE YOU IN THAT BED!" I shout, "YOU SHOULD BE THE ONE DYING. NOT HER!"

"HEY! DON'T YOU TALK TO ME LIKE THAT LITTLE LADY!"

"Like what? LIke YOU have to Mom all these years! All you EVER did was make her feel like shit when YOU'RE the shit! When was the last time you took us all aside and told us you loved us? WHEN was the last time you took mother aside and told her she mattered? That she was the reason you live? WHEN what was the last time you called me by my OWN FUCKING NAME! But you can't do that can you? BIG BOB can't show love because LOVE," I sob "Is weak. And you can't be weak and make sales can you? Well I hope this! I fucking hope you think long and hard about the crap you've done so when Miriam dies... we'll ALL know why!" And with that I storm off, too upset, too mad, and too emotional to deal.

"Helga you can't mean that!" Arnold says as he catches up with me.

"Well what do you think Arnold," I cry. "Either he did this to her or she did it to herself. And if she did it to herself then I have no chance..."

"Sure you do! Just work the steps!"

"Oh fuck the fucking steps Arnold! What good are the steps if she can still fuck up! And do you know how cruddy it is to have that thrown in your face? Imagine your parents just died again and I kept on saying 'Do the steps Arnold! Work the fourth step Arnold!' Not real fun is it! So why don't you-OW!"

"Helga you need to sit."

"And you need to shut the FUCK up!"

"Fine!"

Second guesses

"Rum. Neat," I say. The man behind the bar walks to get it and I feel like crap. I know...I know...I shouldn't be doing this. But I know this is what Helga wants to do. And if she can't then I will. For the both of us.

"Are you sure you want to drink that Arnold?" I look and see Mr. Simmons arrive at the exact moment as my drink does. Fun-ny.

"Look, I've had a really hard day. The last thing I need is another pep talk alright?" He sits next to me as his hand inches closer to my tumbler of rum.

"If you really need a pep talk to stop then you were worse off than I thought." I grumble. Like he knows me! LIke he knows my pain! If he really knew me so well why did he let me try to console Helga? Why did he let me drag Bob out only to have her bust his balls? She did what she does best-drive at the heart-her words sharper than a steak knife. I know she's hurting but does that mean she has to make everyone around her hurt too? I just wanted to help you Helga. GOD DAMMIT! WHY do you ALWAYS have to slink away from people who love you most?

"Well I'm sorry if this shatters the pretty picture you've had in your head all these months but I can't TAKE it anymore. I give and give and for what? So I can get rejected at every turn. My parents rejected me, the borders rejected me, and my own fucking WIFE rejected me. Even when she's at her darkest she won't take me. Her mother is THIS CLOSE to dying and she..." I throw the tumbler in tears- the glass breaking as it hits the bar, "It's not fair!" I weep, "IT'S NOT FAIR!"

"Uh, you'll have to pay for that," the bartender says and I lunge for him, going to punch his face when my old teacher pulls me to the ground. He flops me up on against the wall, his voice shaky yet stern.

"GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF ARNOLD! YOU CAN'T DO THIS!"

"Watch me!" I shove him aside and walk up the bar when a muscle-toned barback greats me, his stance telling me I won't win this fight. But I don't care-lunging forward again-this time a fist hitting ME. I fall back to the floor again, about to get up when I sink some, a trickle of red defeat streaming my face. Great. Another fight I can't win today.

"Come on Arnold, tell me what happened." Mr. Simmons lifts me up and I almost try again when I stop. It's no use having a shattered heart and ribs. Sigh...what a crappy day.

* * *

"I just feel so helpless. I know what's she been through and I thought I could help her...I thought that...I don't know..." I run my fingers through my wet hair, the rain still coming down in heavy spills around the coffee shop near the hospital. "I know you can't REALLY help someone who doesn't want it I just thought...maybe that..." I sigh and sip my coffee.

"Maybe that you love her enough to try."

"Yea."

"I'm really sorry Arnold. This is a shock to me too. Can't you call your sponsor? They have those in AA right? Someone you can call during times like these?"

"He's at an AA retreat."

"Why didn't you go with him?"

"Because I didn't want to lose any time with Phil. I only see him on the weekends." Mr. Simmons nods his head.

"Well...in that case I guess the only thing I can say is...what did you want when your parents passed?"

"Them. But since I couldn't get that I wanted to...not feel anything. And it sure didn't help that I shoved AA in her face. No...not the best move on my part. I think the only real thing I can do is just be there for her. Not talk, not...anything. Just be there." Mr. Simmons smiles a little, finishing up his cup.

"Then I think you know what to do." I stand up and thank him again, foregoing his usual hug as I go back to my wife.

"I'm so sorry Helga," I say when I meet them. Bob and Olga stay quiet, sitting stiffer than stone carvings, "I'll do whatever you want. Just name it and it's yours." She comes to me, her eyes still damp as she says "I just want...my MOM!" She breaks down in my arms and I rub her back softly, whispering "I know you do Helga. I know you do..."

**Nothing Left.**

We have nothing left. Bob and Olga say nothing, Arnold says nothing, and I'm the same, too numb to cry. And yet...I feel everything. The wild kicks of my baby, the spreading ache in my heart, and the gentle touch of my husband as he holds my hand.

"Do you want me to get you anything?" He asks, "I'd be happy to-"

"No."

"But I can-"

"No."

"Ok..." Arnold Squeezes my hand again, sighing along with us. A doctor walks towards our seats and I tighten up in wait of what he'll say. His face, while slim, is void of any clue-totally blank.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Geller, the doctor in charge of your mothers care. Unfortunately, things have changed for the worse since Dr. Johanssen last spoke to you. Miriam's liver was improving but has since plateaued. We have her on a respirator to assist her breathing but, with the way her other organs are starting to fail I'm sorry to report that it may not be long. There is a slight chance, however, that she could hang on for a couple days-maybe weeks. But in all honesty I wouldn't make any bets. Right now we're going to continue trying the medication and keep her as comfortable as possible and in the meantime we'd like to know your plans."

"What plans?" Bob asks.

"Well...in the event that life support is the only thing keeping her alive we have to know her wishes. If she didn't express them through a Living Will or designate Power Of Attorney then... the decision falls on you Mr. Pataki. I'm sorry."

"You're SORRY! That's my WIFE in there you quack!" Bob jumps up like he's about to do something when Olga stops him, somehow getting him to sit down. Criminy! You'll listen to her but to ME you just glare on and say nothing! What kind of father ARE you!

"Is there anything we can do?" Arnold asks.

"Go home and get some sleep. If anything happens in the next few hours one of the attending nurses will be sure to contact you. Good night." He turns to leave and we all just stare at the floor, my belly going into overdrive.

"I want McDonald's," I cry.

"Meat lovers pizza," Bob croaks out.

"Thai?" Olga squeaks

"Any of those seems better than what I had in mind." Arnold stands up, "Come on. We can order take out at the boarding house. Lord knows I have the menus." We solemnly follow my husband out into the rain, the storm raging again by the time we reach Sunset Arms. We order, eat, not really saying anything and yet...expressing so much. Theres no more yelling, no more shouting...just the slow chew of four people who can't begin to process the day. By the time Arnold has set everyone up in beds Bob pulls me aside in the hallway, making sure it's just him and me.

"Listen Helga...I-I've never been good at this kind of thing. This is more your mothers department..." he looks away from me some, his fatty back to my face, "I just want to say that...you've got a good man here. It took a lot of guts to do what he did."

"Yeah...I know," I sigh.

"And I also want to say that...you're right." He lowers his head sadly, "I grew up in an era where sharing mushy emotions was as good as waving a white flag. You didn't do it unless there was something to show for it. And I guess I...well...I...look. I just wanna say that...well...I'm proud of ya."

"You are?" I say, confused.

"Well...yeah! You raise that kookie kid of yours...you write those columns every week and you stick to your guns! Not a lot of people can do that in today's world but you do! That's the Pataki in you! And I should know! You don't become Big Bob without pissing off a few people. But I guess in the process of all that I also...hurt the one woman in my life who can stand me." Dad turns to me and I notice how large and puffy his eyes are-the rims of them deformed from all the feelings he's trying to get out.

"I don't want her to die Helga! I don't want her to go..." I hug him, crying harder than I ever cried in my whole life knowing that... if Dad is sharing THIS MUCH with me... then my mom doesn't have a prayer.

* * *

Morning. Arnold's making coffee and I'm trying to read one of the Bukowski's I left behind. Usually his honest lines and simple words would sooth me, letting me escape into a world not far from my own-minus the track. But it's not working today, and I gather little will. Criminy...why did my mother have to go off and-

"Coffee?" Dad asks. He files into the kitchen with Olga behind him-both walking slower than the dead. Arnold points to the cups he's already put out for them and they slugg towards them, Olga yawing,

"Do you have flour Arnold?I was thinking of making pancakes."

"I think so. I'll go look for the recipe. I know grandma used one instead of that boxed stuff." He gets up and starts searching the cabinets for it when Olga pulls out her own.

"No need! I keep one with me. I find it handy in the mornings. It's Apple spiced! Is that Ok with everyone? Daddy?"

"What?" He grunts from his cup, "Just give me a short stack and bacon will ya?"  
"Alrighty, Arnold? Helga?"

"Four pancakes,four bacon strips, scrambled eggs and don't be stingy with the butter and maple syrup! WARM!"

"Don't you think that's a little much Helga? That's a lot of sugar..."

"Listen BUCKO! this is the first morning in WEEKS my stomach hasn't tried to evacuate itself! I need to EAT!"

"Ok...if you say so. Apple Spice is fine by me." Arnold says.

"Great!" Olga ejaculates. My husband pokes around the cabinets again and finds the right flour and hands it to my sister who's more than eager to start cooking. Criminy! Give it a rest will you! You'd think yesterday would have paused the dance recital, but no, sweet little Olga has to continue her never ending broadway audition like nothings wrong. Like Miriam's not stuck in some hospital bed about to die. What? Am I the only person here who can see how close to death she is!

"Did everyone sleep well?" Arnold asks, "It's been awhile since those beds have been used so we might need new mattresses."

"I slept fine! Thank you so much for asking. I must say, these are pretty rooms! Was this always a boarding house Arnold?"

"Can't say Olga," Arnold yawns, "The only thing I know about it is that Great Grandpa won it in a card game."

"Ha! Now THAT's something!" Dad laughs. "I wonder what other tricks that ol man had up his sleeve."

"No tricks Bob. My great grandfather was an honest person who worked hard. It was just luck."

"If thats luck then he should've played the ponies." I see Arnold rolling his eyes in the corner of mine, dad saying something else I'm too tired and upset to hear.

"Helga, why don't you put down your book. Join the conversation a little." He's right. Today's going to suck no matter what we do, so why try enjoy it? I sigh, feeling the baby kicking like mad from the stress of it all. Believe me kid, I don't want this either. I should be at work now, not sitting and having some cute-cutesy breakfast with my almost ex and saccharin sweet sister. Criminy!

"Pancakes everyone!" OH THANK GOD! She plops down our plates and I dive right in, damn near shoveling down whole slices of bacon.

"Helga you're eating too fast! Slow down!"

"Are you SERIOUS!" I bark between mouthfuls.

"I'm just saying take it easy ok?"

"Fine!" I shove the plate away and cross my arms over my belly, suddenly welling up. Criminy...why do hormones ALWAYS make you cry when you least expect it!

"No, I didn't mean stop eating I just meant...you know...chew." I get up and walk out of the room, belly going wild with a toxic mixture of anger and sorrow. Why can't he just let me eat! Why does he have to...to...I wipe away my tears and walk back into the kitchen, pulling the plate towards me. I need to calm down. Whatever I do, I need to be calm. No sense making this day any worse because I can't keep my shit together.

"Hey girl! Your phones ringing!" Girl? Bob's gone back to that epithet already? Really? What was last night, a fuking fluke? Cry ONCE and you're done.

"Hello?"

"Oh Helga you sound terrible!" Phoebe says, "Did anything happen? Did she..."

"No...but the doctor doesn't think it looks good. We're just waiting..."

"I'm so sorry to hear that! Is there anything we can do?" I sigh. What else COULD she do? I feel guilty enough as it is. I've been trying my damndest to stop using her as the friendly slave I have been for years and she goes off and...

"Unless you've got some sort of miracle cure..." I sigh again, dying to numb this all away so I won't cry again like my eyes are aching to do. They pulse with want, a few brave tears breaking through. Criminy...what I wouldn't DO for a case of rum and Marlboros, anything to make this horrid scene fall away and decompose into blurry colors with swirls of smoke rising higher than my current mood ever could.

"So...how did Phil sleep? Did he give you any trouble?" I sniffle.

"No! Not at all! He played with Kyo until dinner and promptly went to bed at 8. He did ask a lot of questions though, but all kids do. We just told him to ask you and he seemed fine with that, amazingly. I must say he's pretty well behaved for his age." Great...he acts like a freaking saint around my friends but he won't shut up around us. What is that?

"Hold on Pheebs," I say-a new call beeping in, "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Mr. Pataki?"

"Do I SOUND like Mr. Pataki to you!"

"Oh, hello Mrs. Shortman! Dr. Geller here. Your father forgot to leave his number with us so we couldn't reach him. But I'm sure you'll pass this along. We have good news! Your mother IS improving. I have to say I was kinda shocked at how much she did over the night. Her liver and other vital organs are doing MUCH better, she's able to breathe on her own, and I think she's ready to see you guys!"

"Really?" I tear, "Do you think she'll-"

"Now lets not get ahead of ourselves. While she IS talking it's not going to be Shakespeare. We also want to remind you that she is STILL in the ICU and most likely will be for a few more days so we're not out of the woods yet."

"Ok...so...when exactly can we see her?"

"Visiting hours start at 11AM. You can come then. Just make sure to check in with the nurses station for visiting badges." He hangs up and I click back over to Pheebs, telling her everything.

"Well that's good!"

"I guess so..."

"Oh come on Helga! She's talking!" I clamp my eyes shut. Yeah...but what will she say?

"Listen...I hate to ask this but...could you drop Phil off at preschool? I'd ask Olga to do it but..."

"You'll pick him up later right?"

"Of course I am! What kind of mother do you think I-"

"Ok-Ok. Dropping!" She clicks off and I explain the news. Arnold and Olga blurting happy words while Bob sips his coffee unchanged. What is WITH you Dad? You cry on me last night and now you're just sitting there like nothings wrong? Are you really that heartless? Are you really over this already? Done? Moving on?

"I have to call work..." I jump up from my seat and call, my boss unusually understanding, adding that I could take as many days off as I needed. Thank God! At least someone around here is doing something right.

"I should call the school too," Olga says-her voice still chipper.

"I really think this will work out. I really do," Arnold says, all smiles like he's suddenly sober as he rubs my back. He can fake happiness all he wants but that won't change the fact that he almost drank again. It won't change the fact that he almost wrecked the ONE chance we had at getting back together. All because of some stupid glass of rum.

Oh, who am I kidding! You're not mad that he almost drank, you're mad that he CAN. He's not preggers with some kid who keeps moving while you try to sleep. He's not carrying a child conceived out of pity sex. He's not dealing with heartburn and a crapless ass, doomed to crave wild things at 3AM only to have them burn on their way down. And he DAMN sure is not wearing fat clothes that suddenly gives every freaking person in the world the right to GROPE me. I get on ONE freaking bus and everyone starts touching me like I'm some lucky charm. Criminy!

"Great. Good luck with that," I groan.

"Helga, you heard what the doctor said. She's talking again! She's breathing on her own!"

"And he ALSO said we're not out of the woods yet. Anything could happen Arnoldo!"

"Why do you ALWAYS have to be so negative!"

"Why do you ALWAYS have to be positive? What was yesterday huh?" I cry

"Hey! I didn't DRINK any of it!"

"No, you just threw it at the bar the second Mr. Puss in scrubs showed up! What kind of man ARE you! You parade around your sobriety like it's some battle badge and the SECOND shit happens you just run to the bottle faster than I did!"

"And want to!"

"What!"

"Face it Helga, you want to drink! I can SEE it in your fucking eyes! YOU say you're getting better YOU SAY you're doing what's right for the baby but you and I BOTH know that if weren't for that night on the floor you wouldn't even BE here! It would be YOU in that hospital bed and you KNOW IT!"

"HAY! DON'T YOU TALK TO HER LIKE THAT FREUD!"

"Ah, SO NOW Big BOB speaks up for you! WHAT an HONOR to have the KING defend you!" Arnold bows mockingly and Bob goes for him, Olga screeching as she returns to the kitchen. I grab her arm and stand back, REALLY glad Phil is not here to see this when suddenly my belly erupts in movement-something spreading across it.

"OW! FUCK!"

"Helga are you OK!" Olga panics.

"Fine. It's just pra-OW! OWWWW!" I crouch on the floor-one hand pressed down to steady me while the other rubs my belly to sooth it. Arnold gets Bob with his left hook, Bob going for Arnold's neck when whatever's getting me sharpens some, causing me to yelp in pain.

"STOP!" Arnold somehow tears free of Bob's grip and runs to me.

"Helga are you alright? What happened?"

"I don't know. I thought it was Braxton Hicks but then they-" Another one grips me and I have to stand still, too scared to move.

"Bob Call Dr. Noel! The number's on the fridge!"

"What do I look like? Your maid!"

"HEY! IF YOU DON'T FUCKING CALL YOU'RE going to LOOK like a DEAD BODY! OK!"

"YEESH! OK!" He backs off and calls as I sweat in fear. This is too soon! This can't happen now. This just can't! Not now...Not when Mom's so close to dying. Please...if there is someone up there PLEASE...help.

**False start-true end.**

I can't believe we're again. We just got through Helga's mother and NOW this. I don't know how much more I can take. Why do I always want to fight? What about me makes me mouth off to Bob? Is that something I've always wanted to do but never did? Well, not NEVER. I did mouth him off to get him here yesterday. And it worked well. So maybe that's my new go-to for him. Or maybe...I've been with Helga too long. She IS known to have a set of lips on her. I jump up, my heart pounding as Dr. Noel emerges from the room with Helga in hand.

"False Alarm everyone," he says, "Helga was right. They were Braxton Hicks contractions."

"Braxton what?" Bob asks, gulping.

"Braxton Hicks are light contractions of the uterus designed to prepare the body for the real thing. Totally normal."

"But why did they come so often? She was having them pretty quickly..." I ask.

"Horrible combo if dehydration and stress. So if you can Helga, PLEASE drink more water and try the relaxation suggestions I gave you, OK? And if they happen again but get stronger-call me!"

"Ok," Helga breathes, and I breathe with her, REALLY relieved.

"Don't WORRY," Dr. Noel says, "A LOT of women experience these. In fact, I'm kinda shocked you never had them in your first pregnancy."

"Well if I did I never felt'em."

"Could be. Some mothers never do. Honestly...relax, OK? You did fine! Now if you'll excuse me, I have other patients waiting. Have a good day!" He smiles and walks off, Olga going up to my wife.

"Well that's good! Right everyone? She's fine...we're all fine and now we can see Mommy!" Helga rolls her eyes, sighing some.

"You don't want to see her Helga? It might be a good idea..."

"No...I want to it's just...what if the pains come back? I mean what if I get so stressed that I..." She starts crying again and I hug her, doing my best to reassure her.

"But we'll all be there with you. If anything happens we'll get the doctor right away, ok?"

"Ok...yeah..." we all start walking and I get the sense it can't be good. I don't know why, or how...all I know is that Helga almost went into labor. Because I had to yell at her. Because I had to be mean. Because...I had to let my emotions control me. And that's when it hits me, the fourth step! I have to look deep into myself and see-no matter how horrible it may be-exactly the kind of things I can do. Because...I'm not as nice as the nine year old boy everybody loved. I'm not the savior of our town. I'm the drunk, the boozer, the man who's willing to throw away his marriage if it means feeling nothing.

And what a glorious feeling nothing really is.

"So what exactly did the doctors say Helga?" Olga asks, "I mean..."

"I already told you what she said Olga. It's not like I'll suddenly remember something when we walk in there."

"I know that baby sister I just thought..."

"Thought what? That its suddenly come to me that she's going to live? Oh yea...they DID they tell me that didn't they? Miriam is going to make a complete recovery in the matter of hours because-somehow-our HMO can afford a crystal ball! HAZAH for everyone!" She raises her arms high, my sister-in-law looking deflated.

"Helga she didn't mean it like that at all!" I say as we reach the elevator, "She just wants to know everything exactly as they told you. What's so wrong about that?" We all gather inside and I press the button for the ICU floor. We rise instantly.

"She ALREADY knows everything! What MORE could I tell her Arnold!"

"I don't know...something! Would it KILL you to be a little hopeful now and then?"

"Don't DO that! Don't you DARE use your therapist voice on me! You almost drank yesterday and JUST because you didn't you NOW think you can Dr. Shortman me!" The doors open and she walks ahead, the rest of us panting to catch up with her.

"No! I just meant...Helga slow down! Think of the baby!"

"I AM!" We reach the nurses station and get our visiting passes, the nurse showing us which room Miriam is in. It's not too far from the station and my chest heaves with tension. Helga's right. I can't keep falling back on my therapist instincts. I just have to hold her hand and be there. Not saying anything, just...be there. Why do I always forget do that? I try to think of how I can apologize when Olga knocks on the rooms doorway.

"Mother? We're here! All of us! Daddy, Helga, and her husband Arnold." She tentatively walks in as I grab Helga's hand. Bob's got a foot in the door, causing Olga to grab his arm and drag him in. Helga's ahead of me and my stomach churning for her, getting nervous over what I'm about to see. So far I see the flowery wallpaper and a few dull colored chairs, them sadly being the only cheery things in the room. Helga inches herself in some more and goes to the left side of the bed while Olga goes to the right side as Bob takes a seat at the foot.

At thats when we see her, a tired and barely lifelike Miriam. Her skin is pale with huge blue veins running all around her as she rests on her left side-a huger than huge IV needle going into her left arm. I can't help but think of my parents as I watch her chest rising and falling. Did they suffer like this? Or did they really sleep their way into death, closing eyes that will never again reopen? Helga squeezes my hand and I squeeze back, doing everything I can to shut up.

"We spent the night at Arnold's boarding house. It's really pretty! When you're well again you should see it Mother. I KNOW you'd like it. Right Daddy? Don't you think she'd like to see it?"

"I guess..." Bob mumbles.

"And I made pancakes! The apple spiced kind! You know...the ones I always made when I came home from school each summer?" Miriam lays still and I pray she wakes up. Instead she just drools, a steady river coming out of her mouth as I notice for the first time the loud beeping of a heart monitor. Wait a minute...why would she have that if she's just sleeping? I cock a brow, trying not to worry everyone else with my look when my wife pulls me aside.

"Somethings off Arnold," she whispers, her free hand rubbing her belly. "They said she was up and talking not...this."

"Do you want me to get someone...I can-"

"Yes."

"Wait right here. Don't move ok! I'll be right back." I dart out of the room quick and look for Dr. Geller when I spot him near the nurses station. He's conversing solemnly, one hand on the station as the other holds a chart of some sort. The nurse points to me and my whole body knotts up in fear, knowing by the slack look of his face that something's very very wrong.

"Hello Mr. Shortman, I was just about to visit Mrs. Pataki's room," Dr. Geller says as he walks to me, "I'm afraid I have some bad news."

"Oh...is she..."

"Lets wait till we get to the room, shall we? It would be best if I explain this to everyone," He says as he nudges me back towards Miriams room, his voice calm. That must be a good sign right? I mean he wouldn't be this calm if it weren't bad right? Right? My heart pounds hurriedly, my chest aching with the familiar feeling that something's wrong. The closer we get to the room the more I'm certain this is NOT good-the memory of my parents loss filling me up like the tallest glass of rum I wish I could drink.

And then, just when I think I can't take another step I somehow do-fueled by my everlasting love for Helga to be strong. I MUST be strong. I can't let my drama hinder me. I can't let myself drink. I have to BE there for her. I HAVE to be there for my wife, my love, and the one other person in the world who will finally get my pain. But I can't let that control me. I can't let that hurt have me. I HAVE to go on. I HAVE to go inside be there for her. Like she was for me.

"Oh Dr. Geller!" Olga giggles nervously when we walk in, "Glad to see you. I-I was just telling mother about the lovely morning we've had!" She continues to giggle, my wife looking to me for answers. But I can only shake my head in panic, barely able to look at her as the doctor gathers everyone around him.

"Hello everyone. I'm sorry to say that I have some sad news. While Miriam was improving she did-however-contract an infection that we just became aware of. We could try a lot of medications but I'm afraid the infection spread to fast for anything to work. I think... now would be a good time to say goodbye."

"Goodbye? but...you TOLD me she was talking! YOU SAID SHE WAS GETTING BETTER!"

"And she was Helga. Believe me, when I came in at six she was doing beautifully. Her levels were up and I honestly thought she'd make a full recovery. We didn't realize how gravely things turned until you already got here."

"But... but..." Helga tethers herself to me, dissolving into heavy weeps as Olga looks on in total shock. For a while no one said anything, just letting everyone cry-or not cry. The doctor was about to leave when Bob-eyes plastered to his wife-asks,

"How long?"

"It's really hard to say. It could be any second to any number of hours."

"So...this is it for her?"

"Yes. I'm afraid so Mr. Pataki."

"I mean...this...this bed. This room. This..."

"I'm so sorry. I should go. If you need me, please contact the nurses station."

"Wait! Is the infection spreadable? Can it hurt Helga the baby?" I ask.

"No. We think it's no longer communicable to anyone." He leaves, all of us too raw to do anything but be still. Helga cries, Olga's in disbelief, and Bob's back to his stoney self, glued to his chair with more emotions than I can even begin to fathom. As the emptiness envelops the room I keep thinking of ways to stop this, ways to quite the loudest silence I have ever heard in my whole life. It grips us, swallows us, pilfering pieces of ourselves as it works it's way through us and it's all I can do not to breakdown. I can't leave. I can't bolt. My place is here, in this room with only the steady beep of a heart machine for company. And then...when we can't take it any longer the beep spreads out, letting us know with one long annoying sound that it was over. Miriam had died.


End file.
